Castlevania Tales: 20th Anniversary Special
by victor-cardigan
Summary: In the year 1999, the Demon Castle Wars rage relentlessly, with Julius Belmont at the forefront of every battle. However, after a freak accident splits time, the ripples threaten to end not only the war but all of time itself.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

1999…

War is not glorious. Whoever said it was, was either a complete idiot, or lived in a much simpler time. In the year 1914, at the start of the first world war, thousands upon thousands of young men signed up for their country's armed forces to participate in the great war of their generation. It was time for the glorious warriors of their age to rise and prove their mettle. Or so they thought. Instead, thousands were decimated. Why? All because of the short sightedness of leaders who did not understand that war was evolving, and that sending your men charging into machine gun fire was not the way to end all wars. The First World War did not reveal any mighty champions. There were no victories spearheaded by that one warrior whose skill and charisma could lead men to incredible victories. There were no personal victories like in the olden days of knights charging the battlefield on horseback. Those days were long over. Yet as Corporal Neary watched the glitter of the whip swinging in the air, he could not help but be in awe. Its possessor gripped and lunged it masterfully. The whip slithered around its target and wrapped itself around it like a snake. With a precision of movement he has seen only in sculptors with their chisels, the whip master's hand commanded the whip and crushed his prey.

The chamber echoed with the sound of bones falling to the ground accompanied by the sound of a sword and shield which crashed beside them. Together they were once a fantastic foe. Now however they were just the remains of a reanimated corpse. The victor was equally fantastic and seemed to harken back to an older age, an age of fantastic heroes.

Julius Belmont wrapped the whip around the upper arm of his leather coat before fitting it onto a latch on his belt. "Argh!" he exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"Skull dust," he answered. "Whenever I bust a lot of these skull guys I get covered in dust from their bones." Like a school boy cleaning an eraser, Julius began to clap on his coat. "It's annoying and terribly difficult to wash out of this coat," he added.

Neary watched him somewhat unbelievably while he heard snickers and snorts coming from his three compatriots behind him. Julius seemed to notice he was being laughed at and turned his attention to them.

"Now, what are you lot doing here?" asked taking on a stern tone.

"Sir?"

"The military has clear orders to stay on the ground levels of the castle. I can't guarantee the safety of my companions let alone the whole army."

"And where are…?" Neary started but was cut off.

"I don't know," Julius said. His tone became somber. He was a very young man, but suddenly his face took on a much older countenance. "I'm sure they'll turn up," he added finally as if trying to convince himself that he knew his words to be true. "Now how did you get here," he said gesturing to the large chamber they all stood in.

It was surprising that Julius' words could be heard at all with all the machinery that surrounded them. Hundreds upon hundred of cogs, motors, and other moving parts created a symphony of ticks and tocks in what appeared to be the interior of a clock tower.

"Sorry, sir. We were reconnoitering when suddenly a band of Mer-Men cornered us into a weird chamber. It had this bright light and a domed ceiling."

"It was probably a teleportation room. They're scattered throughout the castle. They link far apart areas."

"Where are we?" asked one of the other soldiers behind Neary.

"This is the clock tower, its home to these skeletal warriors, harpys, and Medusa-Heads…among other things. Right now my objective is to get you gentlemen back to your division. I will advise you your men to be careful what you shoot at. Not everything here reacts well to bullets."

With that, Julius turned and gestured for them all to follow him. The group proceeded to exit their current chamber and entered a vertical area made up of incredibly sized cogs. Some spun slowly while others were dizzying to watch. They were at the bottom of this particular chamber. Julius silently pointed upwards to a short outcropping at the top indicating this was their destination. Although as soldiers they were all well trained in the art of climbing, their expressions all communicated to one another their awe at the complexity of their task. This seemed more like an obstacle course for an Olympian athlete than for a soldier.

Unlatching his whip, Julius proceeded to attack a nearby cog which was motionless. As he struck it, the cog spun making a clicking sound. The soldiers observed his seemingly random attack on this piece. The sound of something unlocking at last gave away Julius' intent. The cog was a switch, once activated they saw how the faster moving cogs slowed and changed direction.

All of the cogs had either poles extending outwards or some other fitting which could be used to grip. Julius approached one of the nearby cogs and jumped upwards grabbing hold of one of the rotating poles. The cog slowly elevated into a position ideal for him to jump onto another cog which spun horizontally. Once safely on firm ground, he looked down and signaled for the other to follow suit.

The soldiers were not accustomed to these acrobatics and took some time reaching him. By then, Julius had moved on climbing onto another cog. Thus the group made progress climbing this area of the clock tower. At a certain point, Julius left the soldiers behind as he continued to show the way upwards. Neary stood in the center of a horizontal cog watching as one of his men reached down to help one of his comrades up. His gaze wandered from his compatriots and he found himself becoming slightly dizzy as the cog spun round endlessly. A sudden scream broke him from his trance. Instantly he looked towards the soldier still reaching downwards and rushed forward to his aid.

"O'Neil, what's taking so long to bring him up?" he yelled as he kneeled beside the soldier. Looking over the edge of the cog Neary found one of his soldiers hanging helplessly onto his comrade's grip. His spare arm and legs flayed wildly. The look on his face was filled with terror.

"Damn it, man, get grip so we can…" Neary suddenly looked to his side. His hand went to his mouth as he attempted to hold back the urge to add his scream to his comrades. O'Neil's face was frozen in an expression of pure terror staring not downwards but straight ahead. However it was not just his face that had been frozen, but his entire body. Neary touched On'Neil's arm with the tips of his fingers. They were petrified. He had been turned completely into stone. The soldier below was trapped in O'Neil's stone grip. Neary followed O'Neil's stone gaze and gasped in horror.

Floating towards him was a face unlike any he had seen before. The dark green skin was disturbingly natural, not like the kind you see painted on actors in movies. It had no eyes to be seen, instead just two empty sockets. What at first appeared to be a long mane of hair whisking in the air were in fact half a dozen snakes. The snakes hissed at Neary as the face of Medusa moaned.

Neary's hand instinctively went for his side arm and he unloaded a full clip into the approaching Medusa-Head. The creature exploded into a mass of goo which splattered all over him. In a panic, his hand searched for another magazine. Another one was already approaching. The sound of leather clashing with flesh announced another splatter of goo drowning him.

"Get out of here, I'll take care of these," Julius hollered at him while also pulling him off the ground.

"What about…" Neary began.

"If they're still alive, I'll get your men. Now go, behind me, up the chain to the outcropping. There's an opening there. Stay in the hall and do nothing!"

Without another word, Neary did as he instructed. As he entered the hall which Julius had directed him to, he leaned against the wall catching his breath. Eventually he found himself sliding down to the ground and entering a fetal-like position.

"This place is hell," he said to himself. There was nothing in his training to prepare him for ghouls and goblins. He was a soldier for God's sake not Van Helsing! He killed other soldiers, he didn't shoot at things that were already dead. Anxiety began to take over Neary's thoughts. He could not stop thinking about the impossibility of his situation. Nothing could drive the images of the monsters he had seen from his mind. And behind it all was the incessant ticking! Lifting his head, he took in his surroundings. The hall was not as massive as the chambers he had seen before. In fact it seemed to him the smallest chamber he had seen in the whole castle. The walls on either side were decorated with a long line of grandfather clocks. All of them ticked and tocked. Their pendulums swung from side to side in an exact and synchronized motion. All except one. Neary walked towards this clock to study it. It was in the exact center in its row of clocks. It's pendulum swung in the opposite direction. The second hand also seemed to be moving in reverse. As he studied it, Neary became aware that he too was under observation.

Gently craning his head to his side, he found that his observer was much shorter than he was. Dwarf sized in fact. In one swift motion his hand went for his pistol, he turned and fired.

The shot echoed, but not in the normal way, in reverse seemingly. There was a flash of light and Neary was no longer standing in front of the center clock. Down the hall, standing where he had been was a small rabbit dressed in long tailed coat. In its hand was a waistcoat watch. Its other hand was reaching into his coat. The rabbit pulled its hand out and revealed its furry paw stained brilliant red.

"What the hell have you done?" Neary heard Julius call out furiously as he came rushing into the hall, alone.

"It came up behind me."

"I said do nothing!"

A sudden vibration rocked them both off their feet. The vibration continued.

"It was just a rabbit…"

"No," Julius said gravely, "it was a Chronomage."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Vampires?"

The word seemed to slip naturally off of the man's lips as he spoke it. However there was nothing natural about the subject which was being related to him. Pausing for a moment to look at his waistcoat watch, he then gestured for the flustered man sitting across from him to continue his story.

"These events are so horrible; they are the very definition of macabre. I fear they might be too much even for you, sir."

"You observed these events yourself?" he asked.

"What I did not see, I was given account of via an exchange of letters."

"And Dracula?"

The sound of the tea cup rattling against its plate gave away that the man trembled at the utterance of the name. Unable to hold it steady, the man placed the cup and plate he held on the table. His slim fingers brushed his thick beard in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

"That name…it means the Devil."

The gentlemen sitting across from him had listened quietly throughout the story, however he now laughed at this. His thinly arranged moustache made his face appear to be in a perpetual grin, but it was now that he was truly amused.

"I do not exaggerate!" He spoke heatedly but was unable to hide his nervousness.

"No, of course not. Forgive me." The listener apologized curtly. He did not want to seem rude, but it was amusing for him to listen how people described these things. To him they were as mundane and everyday as the top hat which rested on his head. Often he had to remind himself that his top hat, fine black suit and red vest, in the improper location would seem as totally out of place as vampires. They would be as out of place as the tolling of a noon bell at 10:13 in the morning.

A strange phenomenon indeed, he thought to himself. His shaky tea companion also seemed to notice it. They stared at one another, perplexed by the incongruous sound. Together they glanced at the large clock tower which was visible from all parts of the town as it rang.

"How very curious," said the already nervous man.

"Alarming, I would say," the gentleman said in a correcting tone.

"But what does it mean?"

The gentleman stood from the table checking again the watch from his waistcoat. He saw that the man was looking at him, as if hoping for an answer. "It means that time has been broken, and it is up to me to fix it. I shall return in but five minutes. Don't move from this spot." The gentleman smiled broadly as he tipped his hat to the man sitting frozen at the table. The man blinked only for a second and then the curious gentleman disappeared in a flash of light.

"Incredible," he said to himself. But given what he has been prevue to, not unexpected. This Saint Germaine fellow seemed to be just as fantastic a character as those that lived…and died…at castle Dracula.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The first rays of sunlight were beginning to strike Henry's face through the cracks in the tower ceiling. He had slipped into the garden hedge maze last night. It was the only place where he felt safe. Despite the events which had transpired, he found himself so without energy he instantly fell asleep on the floor of the observing tower. Henry rubbed his eyes as he slowly stood up. Looking out to the massive maze which surrounded him, Henry recalled how only a few years ago he could only glimpse its grand size through the railings. Now at the age of twelve he stood a few feet higher and was amazed by the view. The observing towers were built so that an audience could keep apace of the player's progress and also to guide lost players out. The maze had been his mother's idea. She said it reminded her of France and the extravagance of the old monarchy.

"Mother…"

Henry could not resist the tears which began to stream down his cheeks. Last night was…last night was the most horrible night of his life. He did not want to believe it, but he was almost entirely sure that his mother was dead. And she was probably killed by his father. Henry found himself stepping back into the corner and sitting back on the ground, his head buried in his hands. Time seemed to slip by him, and he found himself falling asleep again. He was so tired. A sudden and repeating sound woke him. He was unsure of how much time had elapsed. He looked outwards to the maze scanning for some sign of what the sound was, but there was nothing. The sun was burning hotly, it was still day time, probably not even noon. The repeating sound continued and Henry turned towards the steps which led back down to the maze and the sound seemed to get closer. He gasped with terror as he glimpsed a colossal figure coming up the steps. The figure was dressed in torn and ragged clothing revealing a grayish skin underneath. Stitches decorated the strange complexion. Each step it took echoed as if the soles of its boots were made of metal. The repeating sound of its footsteps was accompanied by another sound. It was strange and unlike anything Henry had heard in his life. It emanated from the strange contraption sewn into the figure's forearm. At first Henry thought it was some kind of sword. The giant figure was upon Henry and stood just a breath away from him. The figure's face was hidden in the shade of the tower's ceiling and the extreme glare of the sun behind.

"What do you want?" Henry challenged him.

The figure was silent. But the moment of silence between them was broken when the giant raised its mechanized arm. There was a great screeching sound and the teeth which were wrapped around the contraption's blade began to turn. At first slowly, then gaining speed until they were a blur, the teeth spun faster than Henry's eyes could see. The giant brought its arm down on Henry who yelled as he dodged it. Henry scrambled towards the stairs and ran down them at a frantic pace almost tripping as he did so. Behind him he could hear the reverberating sound of the giant's steps slowly but gradually gaining on him.

In the rush to escape, he did not think to note in what direction he was going. He began to turn randomly at intersections in the maze. One of those turns led him into a dead end. He rushed back the way he came and felt a breeze as the giant's weapon nearly took his head off. Further into the maze, he took a sudden right as he glimpsed the gated entrance. With all his might he ran forward and rammed into the gate. It did not budge. He tried the handle….but it was locked!

The foot steps grew louder and Henry's young mind tried to think faster. Retracing his steps, he found a small path to the left of the gate. There was a short bridge with a stream which led to a dead end. There were some bushes there. He could try and hide behind one. Henry rushed towards the path and found it empty. He unwittingly paused, filled with a strange feeling. He had heard adults refer to it, déjà vu. But something was not right. The approaching footsteps shook him back into reality and he dashed for his hiding place.

Behind the bush, he held his breath as the steps became loud enough that he knew the giant must have traced him. Suddenly he was numb. He could not feel or hear anything, only see. The spinning teeth of the giant's mechanical arm sliced through the bush leaving Henry in plain sight. The giant's arm was raised poised for the kill. Again, Henry was filled with the strange feeling. Instead of quickly contemplating his impending death, Henry could not shake the feeling that this was not supposed to happen this way. Then as suddenly the giant had destroyed his refuge, it was suddenly gone.

Once he felt able to move again, Henry craned his head forward and found the giant lying on the ground. Another figure now stood over it driving a cross into its chest. This new stranger then proceeded to pull a knife from his boot and sever the loud machine from the giant's forearm.

"What are you doing?" Henry found himself asking.

The stranger turned around. He was dressed in a long blue overcoat with silver lining and lapels. His white shirt and light trousers contrasted his dark leather gloves but matched his long brown hair.

"I'm disarming him," he said simply. The man raised an eyebrow as he studied Henry. "Who are you? I wasn't aware that a boy had been stolen."

"My name is Henry, and I wasn't stolen sir."

"Then what are you doing here?" He asked confusedly.

"I live here, sir. With my parents."

Henry's words made the stranger pause. Stepping away from the fallen giant, he approached Henry, reached out and studied his neck.

"I'm not a vampire!" Henry said angrily as he stepped away.

"No, evidently not," the stranger conceded.

"Just who are you?"

"My name is Richter, and I will help you."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Something very strange was happening, Maria Renard thought to herself. Upon entering the castle, she noticed immediately that it was different this time. She did not believe that it could have changed so much since she last walked through its dimly lit halls. But the stranger, Alucard, told her that the castle was a "creature of chaos" and that it could change forms. The door behind her led to the underground caverns she had just traversed. They had been filled with demons that spent their time idly lighting torches which were constantly snuffed out because of the wind. Her presence however inspired them to try and light something else on fire.

Maria leaned against the door and caught her breath. A part of her was beginning to wish that she had stayed with Alucard. There was something truly mysterious about him, yet also alluring. Maria felt a need to know him better. It was very awkward; after all, they barely knew one another. He also did not seem to be one to enjoy company. Strangely, Maria sensed an aura of loneliness about him. Perhaps he desired human company, but was afraid for some reason. There was also something different about him. He seemed human, but he wasn't.

It was very quiet where she rested now. It was a long hall, very plain when compared to some of the beautiful and ornate sections of the castle she had seen. The walls were made of simple stone and were decorated with torches placed at regular intervals. The hall seemed to be nothing more than a connecting path between two sections of the castle. She had been through a number of these.

Having gathered some of her strength back, she proceeded down the hall until one of the torches further ahead was suddenly extinguished. Maria froze. Her eyes widened and she tried to force her vision to peer into the darkness ahead. Something seemed to move.

"Who is there?" She demanded.

A tall figure emerged and instantly she felt relieved.

"Alucard!"

His silhouette was unmistakable. Dressed entirely in black, only his pale skin had revealed his presence within the all encompassing darkness of the unlit hall. But as he stepped out, Maria noted that now he too had changed. His clothes were lacking the gold embroidery which she had noted before. He no longer carried a sword at his side. His face was heavier and his hair shorter.

"What's happened to you?"

As she neared him, she saw that his eyes were closed. Her hand reached out to touch him, when suddenly they snapped open. Alucard's hand grabbed Maria's. His eyes! Maria was taken aback by their sudden red glow.

"Who are you?" he asked coldly.

"Alucard, do you not recognize me? Maria?"

"You are unknown to me," he said simply. His other hand quickly wrapped itself around her throat. In another instant, Alucard forced her against the wall while lifting her off the ground.

"Where is Trevor?"

Maria began to struggle against his grip, but to no avail. His strength was incredible, the grip around his neck and wrist was impossible to break. Barely able to speak, and unable to properly move her hand, casting a spell was out of the question.

"I know no Trevor!" she panted.

"The four of us have been traveling together for days. We have navigated through countless areas of this castle and never have we spied your presence. I suspect you were placed here by my father, to delay me, to tempt me. I say to you, I will not give in!"

Slowly Alucard craned his neck to one side and widened his mouth, but not in a grin.

"But you will tell me who you are, and what you are doing here in Dracula's castle!"

Maria's cry echoed in the chamber as she felt a sharp pinch to the side of her neck.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Mina Hakuba felt as though she were flying. It was not that she was dreaming, but her body seemed to be lying flat on thin air. It was an odd sensation, but extremely comfortable. Her last memory was of awakening at the entrance of a strange castle. She was stirred by a strange man who frequented her father's shrine, Genya Arikado. Ever since she was a child, she could remember the man's visits to the shrine. He was always filled with strange questions that he posed to her father. When it was father's turn to ask him questions, he was always evasive and vague in his replies. She considered it a breakthrough that he suddenly opened up and revealed that he worked for the government.

Together they found Soma, who was lying nearby. He pressed her to waken him. She thought it was strange that he was so insistent to wake Soma, but she was glad to do it. Soma would make her feel safer in this strange place. Ironically, a group of monsters appeared from nowhere and attacked them. She was ashamed just remembering that her first reaction was to faint.

Now she was torn between the comfort of this weightless sleep and opening her eyes to see what had happened next. She could hear sounds of dripping water and of low growls echoing as if she were in a massive cavern. Perhaps everything was alright? After all, this did not sound at all like the castle entrance she remembered. Perhaps they had moved to some other part and were keeping watch over her? But what if they weren't? What if those growling noise came closer and they were coming from larger more gruesome monsters? Once again she was ashamed. She was afraid, stuck with her eyes closed like a child.

"Dear Lady, you must awaken," she heard a voice speak softly. A gloved hand stroked her hair to clear her forehead and then she felt a sweaty palm touch her forehead as if to check her temperature. Whoever this soft spoken stranger was, Mina then sensed that he neared his head to her face to check that she was breathing. Evidently he thought she was dead. Mina's eyes sprang open and she said simply, "Hello."

The stranger fell backwards and gave a cry.

Mina giggled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

The stranger reminded her of Soma. In fact he could be his older brother. Instead of Soma's retro Beatles hairdo, this man sported his snow-white hair long and loosely dropped nearly the entire length of his back. His red overcoat accentuated the paleness of skin which went far beyond albino. His gaze, even when startled, seemed supernatural. Again, this called to mind Soma's appearance.

"Giant Armor Lords, zombies, and lizard men. I've faced them all without flinching, yet a girl lying on the ground manages to throw me off my ars…" He suddenly cut himself off. "My apologies. Lydie is always chastising me for my…improper remarks."

Mina smiled reassuringly. "It's all right. I've heard lots of bad words where I come from. Probably used a few myself."

At this, the stranger seemed shocked. He quickly put it aside stood up in order help Mina up as well. "We must leave this place."

"What is, this place?" she asked as she looked around and studied her surroundings.

Mina's instincts proved right, they were indeed in some kind of cavern. It was massive in size, unlike anything she had ever seen before. Her awe quickly turned to nausea as she realized why she had felt weightless. Instead of being made of rock, the cavern's walls and floor were made of a soft plant-like material. It was soft too the touch, but also moist with something amounting to tree sap.

"I do not know. I was traversing a cave of skeletons when suddenly I passed through an obscure passage. It seemed for a moment that I was continuing along the same area, but there was a flash of light and then I was here." A smile suddenly swept the young man's face. "My apologies again, I have not introduced myself, my name is Juste."

Mina returned his handsome smile with one of her own. "Mina."

"That is a very pretty name, Mina. Exactly what…" his hands gestured towards her attire. Mina was dressed in a very loose gown which covered her neck to toe. Innocently, Mina raised her hands in a questioning fashion.

"What do you mean…what?"

"You are dressed like an altar boy."

"I work at a shrine."

Juste nodded as if this explained everything clearly and proceeded to walk past her. "Well just try not to trip on your gown, come on!" he called to her. Together they penetrated deeper into the cavern. Mina noted that they were suspiciously moving toward the growling noises. Juste noted her silent concern and she saw that he reached for a leather whip which was latched to his belt. Before long, they reached a vast ravine within the cavern. The bottom was endless and no where in sight. Across a seemingly equal distance, they could make out the other side. The only way across was a rather tired looking bridge made from thick vines. The bottom of the bridge however was made from traditional wood. Juste footed the bridge, testing its strength.

"Ah…fine craftsmanship," he proclaimed.

Mina stared at the bridge perilously. Juste extended his hand towards her, "take my hand and don't look down." Mina followed his instruction to the letter. Their progress crossing the bridge was slow. The creaking noises that accompanied each footstep rattled Mina's nerves and she feared that each step would be their last. It took all her effort fight the instinct of her body to look down at the wood boards of the bridge. Juste walked ahead of her, but periodically looked back to give a reassuring smile. As handsome and similar as he was, she still missed Soma. Soma she knew and trusted. This stranger she had just met. How could she really entrust herself to him without even knowing what he was doing here in the first place? Her concerns were suddenly put aside when the both of them heard a loud squishing sound.

"What was that?" was Mina's instant reaction. Juste was already surveying the area. He gazed behind them and saw nothing following them. Looking ahead he spied something moving, but it was hard to discern what. As it came closer Juste saw that it was large and round, like a ball of some kind. It was rolling speedily at first, but then it slowed and Juste was able t take in the detail of it. He was now able to see that the surface of the ball was filled with long veins which circled it. They pulsed lively as if it was on their impulse that the ball moved forward. Finally Juste observed the most telling detail, and by Mina's gasp, it's most horrible. Floating on the surface of the ball was another smaller circle, a retina. The ball rolling towards them was an eyeball.

The bridge began to shake as it neared them. It was far too wide and filled the whole of the bridge. So there was no room to move to one side and let it pass. It was also too tall to jump over. With his leather whip firm in hand, Juste prepared to do the only option left to him.

"What are you going to do?"

"Stand behind me!" Juste commanded her.

The bridge seemed to be at the breaking point when the eyeball came within feet of them. Throwing his arm back into position, the length of the whip extended itself, primed to be launched forward at its target. Then with a cry, Juste lunged it forwards. There was a brilliant flash of light as whip and eyeball connected. Then came the brush of wind and both Mina and Juste fell backwards.

"Juste, are you all right? What happened?," Mina cried out.

"Fine. It seems to have exploded."

A thick cloud of smoke obstructed their view, but it quickly dissipated. A section of the bridge had fallen out leaving a wide gap. Juste saw that another eyeball was rolling their way. Without a word he rushed to his feet and ran for the gap. With his hands outstretched he managed to grab hold of the next section of the bridge and land on his feet.

"Juste! I can't make that jump!" Mina called out.

"I know," he reached for his whip and threw the tip toward Mina. "Wrap the end of the whip around your wrist!"

Mina did as he instructed. She looked over her shoulder and saw that the ball was rolling ominously closer. She looked to Juste who returned to her an encouraging smile. "You can do it," he called to her. With no more room to delay, the eyeball nearly upon her, Mina started to run. Just as she neared the edge of the bridge, her feet stumbled over her own gown. Instead of jumping, Mina was now falling.

Juste tried to remain calm as he watched her figure drift downwards. With both hands firmly gripping the handle of his whip, he pulled back. Then, he wrapped what slack there was around his waist. Within seconds he felt himself being pulled forward towards the edge. His hands went towards the railing and held on tight to stop his progress. He could feel Mina wriggling as she hung suspended.

"Stop moving Mina! I've got you!" he yelled.

He did not hear her answer, but the shaking from the rope stopped. Carefully, Juste proceeded to untie the whip from his waist and tie it around the railing. He was careful to make sure that she did not feel that was she being lowered while he did this. Once done, he leaned over the edge. Mina was hanging quietly. She looked up, Juste could see that she was in pain from having her wrist hold her entire weight for so long. He would have preferred to have tied the whip around her waist, but it was not long enough given the size of the gap. He felt sorry that his plan might have easily broken her wrist. Still, a broken wrist was better than death.

Juste proceeded to pull her up slowly. When she was finally up, he inspected her wrist. It was bloody from the effort. He carried with him some water and bandages which he used to bind her wound.

"Thank you," Mina said. "Thank you," she repeated just before she wrapped her arms around him in a big hug.

"Don't thank me yet."

Mina look at him quizzically.

Juste pulled a knife from his belt. "This may be proper attire in your shrine, but…" his voice trailed off as he knelt and began to cut Mina's gown down to knee's length. As he cut around her, he was quite amazed at her pink sneakers which he perceived to be…unique.

"There. That should protect you against tripping in future moments of life or death action."

Mina held the shredded piece of her gown.

"Come on. I'll have Lydie sew you a new one."

"You mentioned her before. Who is she?"

Juste smiled. "A friend."

"Girlfriend," Mina added laughing.

Juste laughed. "I have never heard the term, but I think I understand the meaning." He remained silent. As the two continued crossing the bridge Mina poked him. Juste was enjoying keeping her in suspense. "The answer is we are only friends. That is all."

"Ohhh…" Mina echoed.

Juste shook his head in disbelief. He had never seen such behavior from a young girl. Lydie could be very forward in her ways and thinking, but never like this.

"She is what brought me to this place. Maxim, another friend of mine, informed me that she had been kidnapped. We were searching for her when we decided that we might cover more ground by going separate ways. Now that seems to have been a mistake. I can only imagine how lost he must be at this moment."

Mina took Juste's hand. "Don't worry, I'm sure you will find them both. Hey, if we find Soma, I'm sure he will help you too."

"My thanks."

Again they felt something shake the bridge, but this time they knew what it was, and were prepared. In the distance a pair of eyeballs began to roll towards them.

"Hold on Mina, here they come!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Traveling through time had given Saint Germaine an appreciation for order. Where history books saw chaos, he saw order. Everything was a logical progression of events, all part of a greater cycle which only the Gods could truly understand. Yet he was now privileged to observe it all. It was therefore shocking to find a huge ripple effect progressively overtaking all the time streams. Reality was destroyed over and over again and replaced by divergence. It was horrible.

The epicenter of the ripple effect was easy enough to track down. It also did not surprise him to see what was home of this chaos. It was the home of chaos itself, Castle Dracula.

The endless rows mirrors by which he observed all time disappeared in a flash and replaced by reality.

"Ah…the top floor, what a quaint place," Saint Germaine told himself. He stood amidst a massive hall decorated with arches held by colossal statues of knight in armor. The statues were all lit by streams of flame which seemed to sprout magically from the cold hard rocks which the area was carved from. Saint Germaine found it necessary to remove his top hat and mop his brow, it was deathly hot. As he scanned the area, he was overtaken by a sudden rumbling. Turning around, he saw that the great figure of a Minotaur was hurtling towards him. The figure was a massive brute with bright red skin that seemed to be searing from standing in the flames that surrounded the hall. In its hand it held a single, yet powerful axe. Germaine was frozen as he watched it accelerate towards him. Then, miraculously it stumbled forwards. It struck the ground with a great crash which cracked open the floor and sent chunks of rock debris flying upwards.

"You're fortunate," said a voice.

"Who…?" Saint Germaine whispered.

A figure, tall and imposing but a dwarf when compared to the felled beast, stepped out from behind the Minotaur. Saint Germaine smiled. He knew this man, or at least knew of him.

"John Morris."

"You know me?" the man responded surprised.

With his lengthy brown hair and sleeveless leather vest, John had a slightly modern look to him, much more than his predecessors Saint Germaine knew. His decidedly less European features made him unmistakable among his fellow clan members. Disguised underneath the rugged Texan exterior was hundred years worth of noble heritage.

"Your reputation precedes you sir."

"I didn't know I had one."

Saint Germaine smiled again. This prompted a negative reaction from John who began to walk towards Saint Germaine with a caution that seemed offensive. "Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"

"My name is Saint Germaine. I am…'passing through' as you Americans like to say. And you?" he answered slyly.

John had not liked the vague answer which this dolled up gentleman had given him. Further, he didn't like the way he was dressed. He seemed, out of place. It was 1917 for God's sake! Why was dressed like something his great grandfather would have worn to a party?

"One minute I was in Versailles, France and the next…" he gestured to the hall with his hands.

John relaxed his poise. The man did not seem to be armed. Surely the Minotaur would have chopped him in half had he not come along. He would still keep a close eye on the man, but for the moment, he did not regard him as an immediate threat.

"Any chance you seen my friend Eric? Eric Lecarde? He's a tall Spaniard, huge. He wears a…" John's voice trailed off. "You can't miss him, really."

The name seemed to stir a reaction in Saint Germaine. John was unsure if this was a good thing or bad, for his answer was not enlightening.

"Eric Lecarde? No I'm afraid not."

"And what of a little boy, Malus?" John continued.

"Malus?" Saint Germaine repeated. "I know that name. But you shouldn't. No, that's not right."

"John!" a child's voice broke through and echoed into the chamber. Instantly both men looked towards the opposite end of the hall. There was a break in the flames which circled the hall and it lined up with an archway that seemed to lead into the adjoining chamber. A young boy dressed almost as anachronistic as Saint Germaine sped towards them. The boy, no older than 8 years old, was a strange sight. His hair was not any of the standard colors one saw, but a dark hue of blue. Saint Germaine observed as the frightened boy embraced John. Germaine noted that the boys face seemed innocent, yet emoted something sinister. It seemed conflicted, as if the boy were not in control of himself.

"Come John, quickly. My parents, they need your help!" the boy cried.

John was ready to follow the boy when Saint Germaine grabbed his arm. He turned irritatingly. "Let go of my arm, Germaine. This boy's parents are in danger!"

"This boy is…" Saint Germaine's eyes locked with Malus'. They seemed to widen like those of an animal. For a brief second he swore that they flared bright red. "The boy is leading you into danger. Do not rush in like a fool."

"I can take care myself," John asserted before he ripped his arm from Germaine's grip. Without another word, Malus led him towards the gap in the flames and the two disappeared into the next chamber.

"Faster!" Malus insisted as he led John by hand through the darkness which enraptured them.

"I can't see, Malus!" he yelled. Suddenly he felt his hand released. The darkness opened outwards and John found himself standing between two torches. This new chamber was both long and tall. It also looked very familiar. He found himself disoriented as he looked behind him and saw a long flight of stairs which he did not remember taking. At least he did not take them just now. He did recognize them as being almost identical to the steps he took to reach the Castle Keep at the beginning of his adventure. But how could he be here now? That was miles away in Romania!

"Malus!" he called out.

John unhinged the leather whip which he always carried with him, and as it was his habit, wrapped the end around his hand. It was not wise, but it always made him feel safer. Starting down the long hall which preceded the keep, he noted that it was not in the destroyed state in which he had first seen it. The ceiling was in place and the windows were not cracked. It seemed to be in marvelous condition. But there were additions. Ahead he could see what looked to be large posts, but upon closer inspection, he felt his stomach turn.

A line of crosses lined both sides of the hall. The carpet was moist with the blood of the men who were nailed to them. Many of them had their clothes torn…revealing whip marks? The first man was dressed in primitive mediaeval armor. His long blonde hair held by a head brace. Next was another man, this time with brown hair dressed a little more modern. His neck was covered by a red scarf whose color was stained with the owner's blood.

"Belmont's," Malus said, surprising John as he stepped from underneath one of the crosses that was behind him. "I'm collecting them." He walked towards the first and continued speaking in a matter of fact tone. "This one is Christopher. He was very easy to convince. He has a child of his own. A father's need to protect his son is a simple trait to manipulate." Moving onto the next one, he stood before the still figure to admire it as if it were a painting. "Reinhardt was surprisingly more difficult to rein in. I think he was already suspicious."

"Malus…" John stumbled with his words. He could not believe the horror of what he was witnessing.

"These others? I'm glad you asked." Malus said enthusiastically. He gestured to a young man, pale in skin dressed in an elegant suit. "His name was Graham Jones. He was a pretender. I do so abhor pretenders. But they make such wonderful music as the life is drained from them. Like his twin here. Soma Cruz. Such a boring individual. So much potential, wasted."

John could bear to hear the boy's voice no more. He struck the ground with his whip making a loud cracking noise. "Demon child! Who are you? What are you?"

Malus smiled. "You don't recognize me like this? Perhaps you would prefer something more traditional?"

A thick cloud of smoke began to form behind Malus. From it, various figures materialized beside him. All of them were tall and imposing, mostly sporting dark capes with red linings. Some appeared older than others, some with white hair and others with dark hair. All of them seemed to smile, revealing their pointed fangs. Though their features varied, it was clear to John who these men were.

"Dracula!" Saint Germaine cried out.

He had followed John and Malus through the darkness hoping he was not too late. He had already remembered too late that the boy, Malus, was Dracula himself reincarnated in the body of that child. But Malus was not of John's time. And it was not supposed to even have happened. It was an oddity, a divergent timeline. How could the two be together in the same place? The time distortion was definitely localized here in the castle, but could this be its effect? It was too horrible to imagine that the many battles that have been fought in this castle were now overlapping. This was truly chaos. However this did not worry Saint Germaine. What he now observed in the castle keep did.

The boy Malus, stood accompanied by no less than 6 other different Dracula's. The many forms of Dracula surrounded and overtook John who lay in the center of their circle. Over and over again they beat him with their fists, ripped his skin with their claws, and worst of all they drank his blood. Saint Germaine could see John turning deathly pale.

It pained Saint Germaine to be only an observer, but what could he do? A single Dracula was an ordeal even for a single Belmont to defeat. What could he do against a group of them? He watched, hidden by the steps which led to the hall, as John was raised onto a cross. The boy Malus, gleeful as a normal child, sat on the shoulders of one of his other selves and drove nails into his hands and feet. The scene was repulsive. He could bear it no more. Something had to be done. Indeed, it took only a moment for him to realize what he must do now. He only prayed that he would not be late again. Just then, a low growl called to his ear. He looked upwards. Hanging from the ceiling was a mammoth sized creature, a hybrid of man and bat. It spread its arms, showcasing it wings. It then let go of the ceiling which it had been clinging to in order to soar down towards him.

Saint Germaine leaped downwards himself and began to roll down the steps of the keep. He felt a cold gust as the huge man-bat soared above him casting a dark shadow. The steps were very long and once Germaine had reached their base, he felt as if no part of his body had gone un-bruised. He turned his gaze skyward and searched for the man-bat, surely one of Dracula's infamous alternate forms. A stream of flame sprouted from its monstrous mouth as it dived towards him. As Saint Germaine lunged towards the dark archway which led to the next chamber, he felt the flames burn through his suit and begin to sear his skin. He cried out in pain and vanished into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The castle was mad, thought Richter. Together with the boy Henry, he had traversed area after area of the castle, but none of them seemed to make sense. Cramped underground caverns inexplicably led to wide open courtyards that an army could march through. The geography was all wrong. He had no idea where he was. The boy was even more confused. Neither one of them could understand how all of this started by stepping through a door which supposedly led into his father's villa. But it was all they could do, continue on. Richter felt reassured that he was not placing the boy in unwanted danger. Henry wanted to help. He felt that his mother was out there somewhere. So he too was on a quest to rescue a loved one.

The latest doorway they had taken led them into a massive library. Bookcases three or four times Richter's size lined the walls. The aisles of books were also endless, seemingly continuing into infinity.

"This is grand! Grander than even my father's library," Henry exclaimed.

"Truly it is larger than any I have seen in my lifetime," Richter said nodding in acknowledgement.

Henry randomly pulled a book from one of the nearby shelves. "What does a vampire like to read?"

It was an interesting question the boy had poised, Richter thought. He would have thought that Dracula was too busy raising his armies of undead minions than to have time to read. As the boy perused the book in hand, Richter's mind turned to Annette Renard. Of the many young women which inhabited the town of Aljiba, only Annette had a hypnotic power over Richter. Around her he always felt weak, clumsy, and self-aware. His ego deflated in her presence giving way to a, admittedly, uncommon humility. He was well aware of the long heritage of his clan. Richter was familiar with the blessing and the curse that his family had shouldered for more than a hundred years. The whip he held in his hand tied him to all his ancestors. As such he felt a certain amount of pride.

Being locally known as the descendant of the greatest vampire killers known to man did not always attract fame however. On the contrary, it bothered many that such a powerful weapon should be in his hands. After all, what did a youth know? Richter briefly gazed at Henry. If only those same villagers could see this boy, even younger than he was, daring the evil which populated the castle. Bravery was not a virtue limited by age. Annette seemed to understand this. While Richter tended to treat other villagers with a certain amount of condescending, she was different. Around her felt he could be himself, without facing the expectations that the others directed towards him. But that also had its dangers. If he let Annette see that was not the perfect warrior that he was supposed to be, that he was human like all the rest, then what? This was the dilemma which possessed him whenever he faced her. Always he was torn between acting like the proud Belmont and just being Richter.

Perhaps if he had been less Richter, and more the proud Belmont, she would not be in this situation. This thought also beleaguered him endlessly. Taking his own advice, he brushed aside his doubts. Annette was out there, along with the other prisoners. He was their only hope and he would not fail them.

"Come on Henry, lets move on," he called to the boy.

Henry took a last look at the book he had been perusing. It was written in a language that was unfamiliar to him. It was also filled with strange, occult-looking, diagrams. There was a time when he would have been fascinated by such things. Now however, he loathed such things. They were responsible for turning his father, and taking his mother. Such dark things were of no good to anyone. He slammed the book shut and placed it back on the shelf. Richter was already a few feet ahead of him so Henry quickened his pace to catch up with him. He as walked, the sound of something falling to the ground caught his ear. Henry looked back briefly only to see that the book he had been looking at had fallen off the shelf.

"That was odd."

"What?" Richter asked.

"Nothing," Henry negated and the two continued until another noise stopped them both in their tracks. Instinctively they both looked backwards. Another book had fallen off the bookshelf. Then, as they looked on, another and then another book followed suit. Soon, a dozen books had flown off the shelves. Richter pulled Henry behind him.

The various books which lay littered throughout the floor began to tremble. As their rumbling became more violent, they all began to lift off the ground. The set of books continued to quake as they hovered in the air. Finally the books burst open. Diagrams that only moments before Henry had observed flat on the page were now transformed into three dimensional objects. They launched towards them, growing off the pages becoming pointed daggers.

"Down!" Richter called as he swung his whip into the air attacking the texts. The books crackled with energy as the whip stuck them. Laying flat on the ground, Henry looked upwards at the books as they swirled around them both. Henry saw that a lone text broke away from the main group and circled round behind them. This escaped Richter's notice as he was far too occupied with those that were in front of him. The lone text burst with sharp typeface and swooshed down toward Richter. Henry jumped to his feet and lunged forward as it completed its dive.

Richter turned in time to see that the weight of Henry's small body was enough to divert the tome. Its sharp writing barely brushed him. However he noted that Henry's weight was not enough to keep the book down. The book soared upwards again, taking Henry with it.

Holding onto the book's cover, Henry screamed as it soared at high speeds round the library. The feeling was a mixture of thrill and fear. He felt as though he were flying like a bird. But he was not in control of his flight. Very quickly he noted the book's change in direction as it headed cover first towards one of it compatriots. Henry could sense the book's plan. Instantly he let go of the book seconds before it nearly ran him into one of the other's book's blades.

As he gazed at the closing floor, Henry concluded that he much rather enjoyed flying than he did falling. The floor however was not all that was coming closer. One of the tall bookcases was just within reach. Henry threw his hands forward and hoped that he would be able to grab something. It was no use. He only succeeded in pulling more books off the shelves as he went down. Finally he just closed his eyes. He felt himself crash onto something hard. When next he opened his eyes, Richter was kneeling on the ground holding him in his arms.

"You caught me!" Henry cried.

"Barely," Richter corrected as he squirmed in pain. Gently he dropped Henry onto his feet. "Stick closer next time."

Books which Henry had pulled off the shelves during his fall had landed on the ground. Within seconds they joined their brethren that still circled around them in a parade of books of all sizes and colors.

"Stop!" came a voice. "Return to your places!"

The books closed innocently and they quietly returned to their respective places on the bookshelves. Richter and Henry both breathed a heavy sigh of relief. They searched for their benefactor and found him standing several aisles down from where they were.

"You, come quickly!"

The man was dressed in thick and heavy robes. His pale complexion gave him an ill appearance which was not helped by the lengthy beard which hung from his face. Overall he seemed a rather unkempt fellow, Richter thought. He gestured for Henry to follow and the two followed the stranger. He waited for them by a particular section of books.

"You must help me! They've overrun the place!"

Richter attempted to be calming," A moment sir. Who are you?"

"I am the librarian. Now please, help!"

"Who has taken over?" Henry injected.

The librarian did not answer but bade them to follow him to a nearby curtain. Beyond the curtain, Richter and Henry could hear a cacophony of loud voices.

"You're can't possibly charge 200 for that sword, its dented!"

The librarian pulled the curtain to one side revealing a small chamber, like an office, where a number of men stood in a circle arguing. Each of the men were garbed as differently as the other. One of the men, dressed in a patchwork tunic, pointed angrily at a sword held by another man dressed in combat fatigues. This man was tall and daunting. He was bald save for a well cut goatee.

"What do you know about swords? You like you couldn't use one to save your flannel hat," the man answered almost yelling.

A robed figure whose hood concealed his face approached Richter. "Buy a white crystal?"

Before Richter could answer, the bald man yelled from across the room, "Will you stop asking people that! Everyone knows its not good for anything!"

The librarian then pointed to the one figure that was silent in all the proceedings. He was also tall, but dressed in dark green suit and a bowler hat. After the Librarian pointed him, the man leapt off the desk he had been seated on and approached them. Doffing his hat, he introduced himself.

"Hello, my name is Renon. I am what you would call a demon."

Renon wore dark tinted spectacles which hid the features of his eyes. He smiled, almost laughing as he looked behind him at the ensuing arguments between the group of merchants.

"What do you find so funny?" Richter queried him.

"A few more hours, and my competitors will have eliminated one another."

Henry tugged at Richter's sleeve. "I think we should go."

Richter nodded in agreement. Turning to leave he offered the Librarian a sympathetic gaze. With Henry trailing behind, Richter headed for the library's exit. Thanks to the Librarian's good graces, the journey out was absent of any attacks by homicidal books. Upon exiting the library they found themselves in yet another incongruous area, a strikingly large coliseum. Immediately they were drawn to a lone figure striding through the center of the grand arena.

"Wait!" Richter called. The strange voice caught the attention of the man who then stopped while Richter and Henry ran towards him.

"Careful Richter, there's something…dark about him," Henry warned as they approached him. Richter studied the man. Though he looked with a boy's eyes, Richter agreed with Henry that there was something foreboding about this stranger. He was darkly clad in a long overcoat whose many tears said much of the man's lifestyle. This was coupled by the single thin scar going down the left side of his face.

"Greetings, my name is Richter. This boy here is Henry."

"What do you want?" the man answered coldly.

This was somewhat surprising thought Richter. Surely this stranger must also be experiencing the same phenomenon. Why would he not be glad to find someone else caught in this endless maze?

"We are in search of lost companions. Myself, I search for a woman named Annette, the boy for his mother, Mary. By some chance have you seen them?"

"No."

Richter exchanged looks with the equally bewildered Henry. He was ready to make his goodbye and depart when the stranger suddenly took notice of Richter's whip.

"That whip. How did you come by it?" His voice was in fervor, almost angry.

Richter gripped its handle. "It was given to me."

From behind, the stranger then produced his own whip. It was exactly the same. Richter could see fire behind the stranger's eyes.

"Impossible. Who are you?" Richter now demanded as he matched the stranger's tone.

"I?" the stranger cracked his whip against the stone floor of the coliseum. "Trevor Belmont. I am the only living Belmont, entrusted with their legacy, their mission, and therefore the only man entrusted with the Vampire Killer. That whip in your hand must then be a forgery for there is no other whip like it."

"You presume too much. Trevor Belmont has been dead for over one hundred years. It is impossible for him to be standing before me now."

For the first time the stranger grinned. "Really?"

Richter's hand thrust Henry backwards to the ground with almost no regard for the boy's safety. He could not think twice because Trevor's whip was almost upon them both. It took all of Richter's concentration to throw himself to one side to dodge the attack. By the time he had completed his roll and jumped back to his feet, Trevor was upon him once again. This time Richter unleashed his whip which Trevor evaded easily. The two of them then engaged in a long distance battle plunging their whips at one another only succeeding in cracking at each other's tips. Their attacks upon one another came in unison giving a sense of coordination between the two that did not truly exist. The two warriors circled one another endlessly trying to break the others defense but to no avail. This went on until their whips ultimately became entangled. Both of them paused their offenses in order pry their weapons free but with no success.

Without warning Trevor unleashed a battle cry and charged towards Richter. With one hand still gripping their respective whips, the battle became literally one of hand to hand. Richter was secretly in awe at his opponent's skill. His attacks mirrored his own to the extent that Richter began to believe that it was entirely possible that this warrior could in fact be who he claimed. Some techniques which Richter had learned went back generations. Others, it would seem, had been lost in time. Trevor suddenly released his whip and engaged Richter with both hands free. It took a moment for Richter to react and let go of his own, but a moment too long. Richter's head was crushed between both of Trevor's fists. He then held on with a vise-like grip.

Richter's vision became a blur. All he could see was the fiery anger behind Trevor's eyes. He thought briefly of Annette. Perhaps he was not the Belmont he was supposed to be…

Suddenly there was relief. He felt himself strike something hard. Then he saw Henry's face.

"It's all right. Help's here."

Trevor Belmont knew he was wrong, but he did not like to admit it. However he could not deny the truth made plain by the young man who had just interrupted his fight with Richter. The albino youth extended his hand and revealed he too carried the Vampire Killer whip. This made Trevor even angrier. How could the whip have been duplicated?

"Juste Belmont?" Trevor said with noticeable disdain in his voice. "What mockery is this?"

"Do you doubt the proof of your eyes, Trevor?" Juste scolded.

"I don't mean that. I refer to why we are all here. This is madness! We cannot all be in the same place at once."

"Nevertheless, it is happening," added Juste's female companion, the young girl who identified herself as Mina.

"And the best you could do is beat one of your own kinsman within an inch of his life. Its nice to know that the clan has progressed somewhat since your time" Juste added.

Trevor nearly struck the boy. How dare he speak to him in such a way.

"Stop!" Mina cried. "We have to find a way to fix this. Normally, when there is a time distortion, there is some kind of nexus. You know, a point where everything went wrong. If we can neutralize the source of the time distortion, I'm sure time will get back on track."

The group fell silent at Mina's words. They all stared at her blankly as if she had spoken in some foreign tongue.

"Sorry, I guess you guys haven't had Star Trek yet…"

"Time distorted?" Trevor echoed. "This has some reason to it. If this…distortion is magical in nature, then it is indeed as the girl says, localizing the location where it began is crucial."

"But where to begin? The castle is massive. And with the different areas splintering into different locations, how will we ever reach this nexus let alone find it," Juste questioned aloud.

"If time is the root of the problem then there is but one place to go, to the clock tower," Trevor stated with finality.

"Together?" Richter said as Henry helped him up from the ground.

Trevor sighed. "Together."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Saint Germaine wanted to rest, he wanted to sleep. He would dream that what was happening was not really happening. But what would be the point really. It was a childish thought and he pushed it aside immediately. Anyway, how could he sleep with all the noise? The sound was unlike anything anyone had ever experienced. It was the sound of time waves crashing. The waves of time were very different from the waves of the ocean. Those of the sea only made a crashing noise, similar to thunder. But the waves of time wailed like banshees as they destroyed the endless possibilities of life. It was the sound of memories dying, never to be remembered.

Still reeling from the burns which scorched his back, it was with great pain the Saint Germaine stood up. He faced the mirrors which to him reflected the endless possibilities that time allowed and searched. Finally his eyes rested on the location and time he longed for. He took a step forward to enter this moment in time noting that the mirror which represented it was cracked. As reality manifested itself around him, Saint Germaine felt something he had never experienced before.

A sharp pain traveled his entire body penetrating even his soul until it eventually segued into numbness. He fell to his knees and his hands clasped the floor. It was not cool or warm. He was still numb. Is this what a ghost felt like, he wondered. He still had control of his other senses, sight and sound. He had arrived in an oft repeated chamber within the castle, the Room of Clocks. Grandfather clocks circled the chamber giving it its name.

"Argh!" came a cry.

Saint Germaine sensed that his corporeal form had been broken, but it was not a painful sensation. It was rather akin to a needle punching through cloth. Nevertheless he could see what was being thrust into…through him. His attacker had a look of astonishment as his leather whip hung limply as if it had struck nothing but air.

"What the hell?" Julius exclaimed.

"Ah. Another Belmont. You seem familiar, but I can't place you." Saint Germaine studied his attacker intensely. He began to shake his head. "No, definitely Julius Belmont, but much younger. Without the beard you look so different. So young…"

"How do you know my name?"

Straightening up, Saint Germaine bowed and doffed his hat. "My name is Saint Germaine. I am what you would call a…student of the Belmont lineage. I know all of you. Well, most of you."

"Are you from…the future?"

Saint Germaine laughed and continued to despite Julius' lack of a reaction. Finally he ceased and answered. "Not exactly."

"Are you a ghost?" Julius continued inquiring as he began to pass his hand through Saint Germaine's spectral form.

"No. At least, not until now. I perceive that there must be some kind of barrier around this chamber."

Julius nodded agreement. "There is. It's why we can't leave."

"We?"

Julius motioned towards an unmoving figure lying on the floor by one of the clocks. "Corporal Neary. His men were ambushed. I saved them. Then we were ambushed again. I told him to hide here, but that seems to have been a mistake." Julius then gestured towards another still figure; however this one was not sleeping like the corporal. The corpse of the white oversized rabbit was almost amusing to look at, but Saint Germaine understood the deeper implications.

"A chronomage?"

"You know your stuff Germaine," Julis said acknowledging.

Saint Germaine clapped his hands together. "Of course, his chronometer! It can alter the flow of time. A malfunction could conceivably wreck the havoc raging outside."

"Havoc?"

"Yes, time is being undone as we speak. You must tell me quickly, what happened."

"Apparently the trigger happy corporal shot the mage and put a bullet in his watch, the chronometer I mean."

"Where is the chronometer?" Saint Germaine asked excitedly.

"I wish I knew."

"What?! But…"

"There was a big flash; we were both stunned for awhile. Eventually I woke up and found this barrier keeping us in. Just then we were attacked. It was Death. He took the chronometer."

Saint Germaine remained speechless. He could not comprehend the horror of what was being related to him. The chronometer was the key to repairing the timelines and halting the eventual destruction of everything in existence. If it was not recovered, all was lost.

"But for what purpose?"

"You said there was havoc going outside? Well what do you think Dracula wants more than anything? Havoc, chaos, you name it. Neary here just gave Dracula the perfect weapon with which to destroy everything."

"If Death has placed the broken chronometer in Dracula's hands, then there may be nothing anyone can do."

"Why do you say that? If I weren't trapped in here, I could make short work of that vampire!"

Saint Germaine shook his ahead apologetically. "You don't know. You haven't seen…The boundaries of time have fallen. The many incarnations of Dracula have joined together. If they hold the chronometer, there isn't a force that can defeat them."

"I will not accept that!" Julius declared. "If more than one Dracula can band together, then surely there must be other Belmont's out there that can strike."

Saint Germaine breathed a heavy sigh. "Perhaps. But some Belmonts have already fallen. Dracula is playing a game of divide and conquer. Alone, a single Belmont cannot defeat their combined might."

"Then together, Germaine! I can't help them, but you can find them. Tell the others they must work together."

"Very well. I will make haste," Saint Germaine proclaimed now a little more animated. He took a few steps away and turned to face Julius one more time. "I will return with the chronometer, or not at all." Then, he simply tipped his hat and disappeared.

Julius watched him go. "Good Luck…"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Alucard raced through the main hall on four feet. Of the many attributes that he inherited from his vampire father, turning into a wolf was not among his favorites, but it had its advantages. In this form he could run faster and ram through anything in his way. Once he attained full speed, the hordes of Dracula's minions would only be able to perceive a blur racing past them, or through them. Zombies and skeletons fell to pieces as he rushed on and on.

Normally traversing the main hall was not an ordeal, but some outside force was manipulating events. Alucard in his humanoid shape had passed through at least four different halls. All of them were lengthy and elegantly decorated with flowing curtains and massive windows. Yet all of them were different in one way or another. Alucard was aware that the castle changed shape with each new reappearance, but never once it regained its shape. It was at this point that he began to suspect that something was wrong. As he stepped through the archway which should have led to another section of the castle, again he found himself in another iteration of the same hall. He was trapped in an endless loop.

Only a powerful spell could possibly keep him caged like an animal. It was then that he had the idea. Taking on his wolf form, he would race through the halls hoping to break the barrier which held him. Or perhaps he would be able to outrace the spell which seemed to pursue him. Or worse still, he would fail and remain trapped forever. At that moment he briefly wished that sunlight was fatal to him. He could then wait for daytime and end it all. Unfortunately that was not an option. Either way, he had a purpose. His father was being broken out of his own cage, and that was unacceptable.

He felt cold as he went faster. His body also ceased to feel the cracking bones of his foes as he plowed ahead. Finally he felt himself slam into something hard, but he did not stop. Alucard continued to push. He felt his skull being crush by the counter-force of what was holding him back. It must surely be the barrier. He did not know for how long he pressed against the barrier, or even if he was moving it, but he continued. Then, as mysteriously as it had appeared, the barrier ceased to exist. He was still rushing forwards when it did and his momentum kept him moving forward, however he was now out of control. His legs stumbled as he struck a loose step somewhere and went flying through some unknown passage. A wooden door finally brought his flight to end as he broke through it. By the time the splinters from the door touched the ground, he had returned to his traditional form.

Dusting the splinter off of his shoulders, he proceeded to examine where he had escaped to. After a quick examination, he scoffed. He had escaped the main hall only to enter one of the connecting passageways. Not as grandly ornate as the rest of the castle, there were dozens of these plain halls connecting the various areas of the castle. Inwardly he hoped that this would lead him somewhere other than the main hall. At this point he would be grateful for an underground cavern, a waterway, or even the clock tower.

Only a moment passed and Alucard become aware of a whimpering sound. He looked towards the end of the hall where there was a darkened corner. The torches had been extinguished hiding what may be beyond. The sound however did not appear to be coming from something dangerous. As he neared the source the whimpering seemed to turn into crying. Then came the startled voice.

"Leave me! Please! I don't know anything!"

Alucard felt his heart begin to race as he recognized the voice. "Maria?"

"No! Stay away! Please…" she began to beg.

"Maria, tis Alucard. Do you know remember me?" he asked keeping a light and reassuring tone.

"How could I forget," she spat. Her slender figure then emerged from the darkness and extended her neck outwards. With her hand gesturing to two holes on the side of her neck she cried, "when you did this to me!"

Alucard stepped back. His normally cold and emotionless face transformed into one of pure astonishment. He shook his head gently and tried to maintain his calm tone. "No, I would never have done such thing. Not to you. A succubus perhaps, or a demon in my image…"

Maria shook her own head wildly. "No!" she wailed almost mad. "It was you! I looked into his eyes! It was you!" She charged forward and began thrust her fists in a vain attempt to strike him, but Alucard caught both her wrists. Once he had her in his grip, she went limp in his arms and began to cry. Slowly she slipped down until she lay on the floor once again whimpering.

Alucard stared at her as she lay there. He could not conceive of what had happened. He would never have attacked her in such a fashion. Never…or would he? He was not always as he was now. In his 'youth' he was a very different person. He was a very angry person, in a previous life. He felt scorned and betrayed by his father. Lord Dracula had chosen his crusade against the humans over loving his son. Thus he grew to manhood with only anger as his constant companion. He began to recall that when last he walked this earth, he was an angry, unapproachable, uncontrollable being. It was only through the kindness that his compatriots, Trevor, Grant, and Sypha shared with him that he mellowed. Even then, after the war against his father was over, there was only one way to quell the tide of hate inside of him. He sealed himself away in an eternal sleep. He hoped that his cursed bloodline would then be shielded from the world for all eternity, but that was too much to hope for.

He could still not comprehend what was happening. When he awoke this time, searching for the power that had brought the castle back, he was no longer filled with the hate of year prior. The quiet and lonesome sleep had managed to banish much of his hate. He was in control. And yet this woman was attacked, by him.

"I am…" Alucard's words faltered. "I am sorry Maria."

"May you rot, Monster!"

Alucard fell to his knees. Throwing his head back, arms outstretched, he bellowed, "Father!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The sound of stone scrapping against stone announced that the room was to turn again. Everyone hardened their grip either around their whip or their partner. Only Trevor hung by himself, Ricther carried Henry and Juste carried the girl named Mina. Trevor glanced at the open archway that was their only exit from this chamber. Unfortunately it was directly across from them. The surrounding walls of the chamber were all lined with spikes, making it impossible to walk to the exit. Their only chance of escape was that the chamber periodically spun around in a clockwise fashion. If they could wait for room to spin the archway into position below them, they could just drop down. However there were other obstacles.

Small square breaks were littered throughout the spiked walls. A bell chimed three times and they all knew what that meant. Their eyes watched as the square slits opened. From the opening emerged a series of small figures. They glided eerily through the air, propelled by an unknown force. Trevor had always wondered if they were offspring, or if they were just extensions of her malevolent will. Medusa Heads traveled the castle endlessly as if searching for prey to fill their master's stone menagerie. The floating heads seeped endlessly through the slits in the walls. Each the men did their best to swing from side to side to avoid the merest touch of the creatures. For only the slightest contact might mean instant petrification.

Once more the bell chimed three times and the ghastly things disappeared into the walls. The chamber began to shake as it turned slowly. At last, the archway moved into a position directly beneath them.

"Juste, you go first!" Trevor ordered.

The young man nodded and gave a signal to Mina. The girl switched gazes between the archway and Juste.

"Just go!" Trevor bellowed.

Fearfully, she let go of Juste and fell into abyss. Juste then proceeded to unhook his whip from the hoop which it had been fastened to and followed suit. As the chamber rushed past him, Juste was surrounded by darkness. For a moment he became disorientated as he was unsure if he was falling downwards, upwards, or even forward. Finally there was a light. Before he could tell what was going on, he felt himself fall face down on a hard marble floor.

"Juste!" he heard Mina's voice call out. Turning to face up, he glanced Mina kneeling at his side. Another figure stood behind her.

"Guess who I just found!"

Juste's eyes came back into focus. The figure standing behind her was strangely attired yet he seemed to match Mina's garb in workmanship and design. As he gazed into the stranger's face, he at last gripped that Mina was right. The young man, Soma, was indeed similar to him in his features. However as he looked into his eyes, there was something truly unnerving about him.

Shortly, the others appeared through the archway and landed in similarly uncomfortable positions. After exchanging greetings, Juste noted that both Trevor and Richter seemed wary around Soma. However each of them hid it well as the group became distracted by exploring their current location.

The chamber, they stood in was a mammoth sized chapel. Exquisite stained glass windows adorned the walls. Each of them was alight with a magical aura that showcased their delicate imagery. Long winded steps on either side led to turrets which housed church bells and also broke off into other chambers. There was a quiet peaceful atmosphere which seemed to subdue everyone except the Belmonts who were not at ease.

While the others studied their surroundings, Mina took a seat beside Soma who had in turn sat himself at the foot of a stairway.

"So," Mina started. "What do you think of my friends?" she chided.

Soma smiled sheepishly. "Great. Its just like you to make friends fast."

"You don't have to be the loner type, you know. I mean look at Trevor. You can tell that he is a total loner. And what's he like?" Mina leaned forward and spoke whispering, "he's like a total jerk half the time. You don't want to be like him, do you?"

"I suppose not."

Mina slapped his arm," Suppose?"

Soma laughed for a moment, but then became serious. "What if I were to change, Mina? Would you…"

"Be your friend? Of course! We all change a little. Most times it's for the better. But that's why you have friends…like me…to make sure you don't change for the worse."

Soma turned away. "This is different," he muttered under his breath.

From atop the stairway the Belmonts had grouped together and now stood watching the two. They had separated themselves under the guise of checking the chapel for enemies. They were in turn surprised to find the area devoid of life.

"What do you think?" Richter asked openly.

"Something is troubling about the boy," Juste answered.

"The question is what? Does he pose a danger to the rest of us?" Trevor continued. "It is without a doubt the boy has been touched by evil. Whether he is in the grips of it, or whether it is in his, remains to be seen. However we shall not prod it. We will keep on our guard, the three of us. If it rears its power against us, we must be ready to strike it down without a moment's hesitation." He looked toward Juste. "That may mean alienating the girl. Do you understand? No hesitation."

Juste studied Trevor's gaze. The scar going down the side of his face awarded him a truly fearsome stare. It never ceased to surprise him that they were related. The coldness of his gaze and the detachment of his persona were alien to him.

"I understand," Juste responded simply.

"Everyone! Come see!" cried a voice.

Richter looked towards Mina and Soma and then turned to his brethren. "The boy, Henry!" Together they rushed down the steps leaping over the couple sitting at the base. They too followed in quick succession as the Belmont's led them through the chapel. Richter proved to be the quickest and ran ahead of them all. The voice cried again and Richter sense that it came from beyond a veiled section of the chapel. As he passed through it, he saw Henry standing in the center of the small room beyond.

The room was barren except for two confessional built into the wall. Henry pointed at the right hand seat which was obscured by a curtain. A set of clothed legs were clearly visible sticking out from underneath the curtain. As the other arrived, Richter called out.

"Who goes there?"

There was no answer. Richter unfurled his whip and struck against the confessional. The figure within stirred. A gloved hand pushed the curtain to one side and emerged. The figure was a well dressed man attired in a white suit and red vest. In his hand he carried a tall top hat. The man's expression was one of exhaustion.

"I…I…beg your pardon. I seemed to have dozed off," he said weakly.

"Who are you?" Trevor insisted.

Seemingly gathering his strength, the stranger answered. "I am Saint Germain. I've come to help you all."

"How?" Trevor continued.

"In the future, there will be a great battle here in this castle, as there has always been. However because of a mistake of an outsider, the walls which separate the past and future have fallen. That is how all of you are now able to meet. But this is having a destructive effect on the world outside. Time must be restored to it proper course."

"Trevor shot a glance towards Mina. "A time distortion?"

"Yes."

"I see. And what can you do to help us correct it?"

"I can…travel…through time and space."

"So you can prevent this from happening?"

"Unfortunately not. Due to the nature of the distortion, as you put it, I have now become part of the event. I can however travel through space."

"How does this help us?" queried Juste.

"The source of the distortion is from a device belonging to a demon. The device has been broken and needs to be repaired in order to restore everything."

"Then can you not find the device and repair it?"

Saint Germain shook his head. "I know where it can be found, however I can get it alone. Dracula holds it."

"That's no problem. With three of us we can defeat him," Richter proclaim confidently.

"Do not be so rash. Just as there are many of you, there are many of him as well."

Trevor took a few steps towards Saint Germain. "How many?"

"At least half a dozen."

The group remained in silence, awestruck.

"I care not if there are 20 Dracula's. If that is what must be done, then we shall do it." Trevor turned to face Richter and Juste. "Agreed?"

"Agreed, but we will need help." Richter gestured towards Saint Germain. "What can you do?"

"Aside from the element of surprise, which I can provide by dropping you in the throne room? I can provide allies. While I fear that they have already used their numbers to defeat other Belmonts, there may be others in this castle that can help."

"Good," Trevor said. "Then bring them to us. Everyone you can. Bring them here."

Saint Germain smiled. "Consider it done." He then doffed his hat and disappeared in a flash. He had felt somewhat embarrassed by his entrance. It had not been his intention to appear so weak before them. However the experience of being pulled out of his body during his discourse with Julius had been a trying one. Nevertheless, he had to set aside his own condition and focus on the task ahead. Immediately he began to scan the various mirrors which showed him the different sections of the castle. He caught glimpses of many beings which he felt could add strength to the Belmont's plight. Thus, he leapt into one of the time zones and began his work.

His first catch was Sypha, the vampire hunter and sorceress. Convincing her that he could reunite her with Trevor was not an easy task, but it was the first of many that he managed to accomplish. Through the dungeons, mines, and caverns of the castle, Saint Germain found many adventurers scattered. After convincing each one that he was friend and not foe he would quickly transport them to the chapel where the group of allies began to grow.

It was impossible perceive how much time it took Saint Germain to collect everyone, but it seemed like many hours passed. Ultimately though, Saint Germain scanned and saw that there was no one else. He returned to the chapel's main chamber where they had moved to for lack of space. A large crowd had formed there. As Saint Germain waded through it, he felt like a stranger at party he was not invited to. Old friends were reunited, and distant family met for the first time. It was quite emotional, he thought. A shame it was all a huge blunder that these generations of warriors were not meant to meet. Even Trevor, who was normally morose, seemed to have softened up. He greeted him warmly. To one side was a cloaked figure whose hood concealed all but a set of pursed lips. At his other was a disheveled man whose torn and ragged clothes gave the appearance of being a beggar.

"I must thank you, Saint Germain. You have returned to me my comrades, Sypha and Grant."

Saint Germain bowed his head. "It was nothing. Only a little convincing had to be done."

Grant then grunted loudly. Saint Germain was unsure if it was to remind him that there was no 'little' in the act of convincing him or if to apologize for nearly slitting his throat with a knife. Saint Germain merely gave him a cursory glance and smiled.

Trevor's demeanor instantly switched to it usual mood. "While it is excellent that we have a large group of warrior with which to attack Dracula, we also have a number of non-combatants." He turned to the direction of the young boy, Henry. "I admire the boy's courage, but he has no business in this battle to come. Neither does the girl Mina."

"I totally agree."

"I've met with everyone and decided that some will stay behind. Henry, Mina, Juste's friend, and the three young women from Richter's town will stay. Additionally that old man carrying all the crosses…he stays. They will be protected in part by the young girl, Carrie, who Sypha tells me can be very powerful. The young woman, Yoko, she will also stay behind. Her wound will make her a hinderance." Trevor then signaled to Richter and Juste who both promptly joined them.

"Our plan of action is simple. Dracula is most vulnerable to the vampire killer whip. Richter, Juste and I will focus on defeating on one Dracula at a time. The others will distract his other forms until we get to them. With luck, our combined power will make quick work of each form."

It was true that the plan was simple, but it was daring Saint Germain thought. He saw what the various Dracula's had done to just one Belmont. Did these three truly stand a chance?

"What about your friend Alucard," Juste asked.

Trevor looked to Saint Germain.

"Unfortunately he is…incapacitated. The younger Alucard which Trevor is familiar with ran afoul of his older self. Age and wisdom vanquished youth and thus, he no longer exists in any reachable form."

Trevor became sullen at this news. "Alucard had many inner demons to exorcise. We had hoped we could help him extinguish some."

Saint Germain smiled. "If time returns to its proper path, you may still get a chance."

Trevor nodded but visibly removed any evidence of what emotions the loss of his comrade had dealt him. Saint Germain had always admired this quartet. Such a mixed group. One would think they would be unable to work together, and yet somehow they managed to accomplish an almost impossible feat, defeating Dracula.

Now he prepared to engage in an even greater feat, defeating Dracula a dozen times over. Trevor gathered his team of warriors. He stood side by side with his fellow Belmonts, Juste and Richter. His old allies Sypha and Grant stood nearby.

Towering behind them was another hooded figure. Locks of blonde hair breached through it sides. The large figure stood poised with a large multi-bladed spear. Eric Lecarde looked grim, but in his eyes one could see the desire to avenge his fallen friend John Morris.

Dwarven when stood against Lecarde, the man-wolf Cornell looked back one last time at his sister, Ada. She had begged him to stay, but he knew that the only way he would ever get her out of the castle was to help them.

Looking out of place amongst the crowd of warriors, Soma felt even more awkward. His palms were filled with sweat as he gripped the Ascalon sword which Hammer had sold him. He sensed that he was not trusted. These Belmont's looked at him with distrust. Perhaps they right to do so. If they knew the truth, they would kill him on the spot. So far it seems if they did not suspect the truth. This gave him a small ray of hope. Maybe if he kills one of Dracula's forms, he might prove himself, in more ways than one. Mina gave him one of her famous encouraging smiles. Normally he found them comforting, but in his current state, there was nothing that could allay his anxiety.

Trevor stepped forward and took a moment to look each one of them in the eye, seemingly gauging their strength and resolve. Finally he gave them a firm nod and faced Saint Germain.

"We are ready."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The castle keep had taken many shapes and forms over the years. Always it represented the peak of the castle's structure. It was also the one area of the castle that was devoid of life. While armies of creatures and monsters littered the castle, waiting for the moment when they will be unleashed upon the world, the keep did not have a single guard. The rest of the castle was a living death trap. Trap doors, razor-sharp blades, and elemental fire could kill or maim adventurers at any turn. The keep however, was completely devoid of such devices. The most dangerous part of the keep was its lone occupant.

A long hall, elegantly decorated with fine silk curtains and golden lamps, served as the entrance to this singular area. The passage through the hall was uninterrupted and would culminate with a set of large double doors. Beyond them, a long staircase lay which climbed upwards, seemingly defying the laws of gravity. The staircase served as a challenge to any architect to discern how it was built upon thin air. Finally there was the keep itself. Sometimes it was square, others it was circular, but always it caged brave adventurers as if it were a tomb. Generations of warrior knew that once they had stepped through its double doors, the only way out was to defeat the power of the devil himself.

The darkness of the keep was broken by a brilliant flash. Where once there had been nothing, there now stood Trevor and his group of warriors. The Belmont's stood grouped together apart from the others.

All of them seemed to recognize the castle keep as it had changed little from generation to generation. It was always a large and grand chamber. Long curtains covered the expansive windows which were as tall as the chamber itself. Outside a bright moon shone creating a single stream of light. The rest of the chamber was hidden in darkness. The sound of two hands clapping broke the silence that filled the chamber.

A pair of torches came alive casting their light upon a large throne. Seated there, with feet that did not reach the ground was the boy Malus. He smiled gaily like a boy who had just been given a present.

"I am impressed. Such a gathering of foes! More additions to my collection." He clapped his hands again. Torches along the hall leading to the throne also went alight. Each one corresponded to a wooden cross. Nailed to each cross was a still figure with features that were barely recognizable but to those that knew them.

The boy dipped a single finger in the glass he held and stirred the red tinted liquid which filled it. Then in one great gulp he swallowed its contents whole and smashed the glass onto the ground. Leaping to his feet, he approached the group. As he came closer he visibly transformed before their eyes from the shape and figure of a boy to that of a fully grown adult man.

His voice no longer soft pitched but deep and firm, he bellowed, 'I tire of our feud, Belmonts. The time has come for this world, this abominable creation of heaven, to come an end!" Malus began to laugh and once again his shape began to change. His pale skin began to stretch until it ripped. Underneath there was a new layer of skin but it was more like the scale armor of reptiles.

The three Belmonts did not waive from their position. In unison they unfurled their whips and began their combined attack upon Malus' new form before he had even finished his transformation. Now more reptile than man, he roared with each new strike that their whips flayed upon him.

Eric Lecarde twisted a discreet handle in the center of his spear, releasing the multiple blades at the end of his weapon. Beside him a flash of light signaled that Cornell had assumed his wolf-form. He then shot a glance at Sypha who magically hovered above them all. She extended her arms outwards ordering them all to spread out in search of Dracula's other forms. Despite his instincts, Eric found himself walking towards the row of crosses. He scanned each face hoping in vain. The last figure to be crucified had had his face damaged beyond recognition and his cloths were now but rags. However Eric caught sight of a single locket hanging from the figure's neck. Using his spear he reached up and cut it from the wearer's neck. Inside was a photograph of a man and child together upon a horse.

"Quincy…John…" he whispered.

"Quincy? John?" another voice seemed to call out from one of keep's dark corners. Eric quickly tied the locket around his neck and searched for its source.

"Dead!" the voice howled.

His heart doubled its beat. In the darkness he perceived a silhouette moving. It was massive, double or triple his size. Finally two spots became clear, a bright red light which began to pulse. They were not lights, they were eyes. A stream of fire revealed a heavy face made of bubbly blue skin. The fire emanated from its gaping mouth and forced Eric into a series of back flips. The creature leapt upwards and instantly landed back onto the ground causing the whole structure to shake under incredible weight. Regaining his poise, Eric stared into monster's red shot eyes.

"My friends are dead, but with yours, they will be avenged!

Sypha watched as Eric charged towards his foe. "Keep an eye out for others; remember we face multiple manifestations of the monster," she called to Grant, Cornell and Soma.

"It'd help if you could conjure us up some light!" Grant called to her.

She smiled. With hands crossed above her head, she intoned her voice. "Obscurum profundus , non prohibeo nos. Permissum illic exsisto lux lucis!" An aura of energy encircled her, crackling as it touched her cloak. As the energy grew so did the intensity of the crackles. Suddenly the aura broke and the crackles launched outwards to the walls of the chamber. At intervals across the room, the energy reformed into orbs creating a sparkling light which filled the entirety of the keep. To her surprise, Sypha found that another of Dracula's forms standing immediately to her right. This incarnation stood as tall as the others but was more human-like. Instead of scaly or bubbling skin, this one's was smooth like leather. Standing completely nude before them all, Sypha was amazed that this one looked almost human. His only demonic features were a set of wings which flapped on his back and the horns sprouting from his almost handsome face. Sypha dived towards the ground to avoid the handsome Dracula's reach. He began to swing his palm, attempting to swat Sypha like a fly.

Quickly scanning the rest of the chamber, she was horrified to see more monstrous figures had been waiting in the dark. Then a cry of pain caught her ear and her eyes wandered. She recognized the voice. It was Trevor's. She saw that he had fallen, struck by the dragon-like Dracula's tail.

"Trevor!" she called.

It was foolish to call out to him. He would not hear her. However she could not help herself. She had grown…close to the Belmont. He was insufferable at times, but there was a deeply hidden, and well-guarded, gentleness within him. It was so well-guarded, she suspected only she knew of its existence. If something were to happen to him, she would…

"Sypha!" as voice called her name, but it was far too late. The handsome Dracula had her in his grip.

"Women…" Grant's warning had fallen on deaf ears. Sypha had been distracted. "So typical of a woman, getting distracted in battle." It was a first for Sypha. But it only needs to happen once for it to be the last time. He knew that the plan had been for each of them to distract one form each, but it would not make for good odds if one of their most powerful was killed in the first moments of battle. The man-wolf Cornell was already busy with another form, but he did not care, he needed help.

"Wolfman…I need that furry tail of yours."

Almost immediately, Cornell turned away from his prey and lunged toward Grant's position. "My name…is Cornell, little man." He growled.

"Aye, note taken." Grant gestured towards Sypha's plight. "I can jump high, but I need a boost."

Without another word, Cornell clasped his clawed hands around Grant's throat and lifted him up. With his spare hand, Cornell grabbed his ankle and proceeded to spin around. The keep became a blur as Cornell spun Grant faster and faster. Finally Grant felt that man-wolf's hands release and he was soaring into the air. With acrobatic precision Grant shot towards the handsome Dracula's arm.

Apart from having abnormally great strength in his legs, Grant also possessed equally great strength in his hands. With it, he pulled on the Dracula's skin and held on. With a spare hand Grant pulled his knife from its sheath and without a moment's thought, thrust it deep into the monster's arm. The knife struck a nerve. The monster bellowed and his hand instantly reacted by opening. Once again free, Sypha hovered and grabbed hold of Grant.

"My thanks…" she managed to say, still breathless from being caught in the creature's grip.

"Aye, just return the favor," Grant answered simply before releasing himself from Sypha's grip and leaping towards a cloaked Dracula seemingly still in his primary form.

"Argh!!!!!!"

A sharp bellow rang through the chamber and once again the whole structure began to shake. With his eyes, Soma followed the quake to its source. The dragon-like Dracula was finished, the Belmont's had defeated it. The vampire's limitless energy was now ripping the fabric of reality and opening a gateway to hell. Once defeated by the holy power of the Belmont's whip, Dracula had no choice to be dragged back to the underworld. And so the massive creature began to slowly sink into the nether regions. Instantly the Belmont's left the dying Dracula and proceeded to attack the next closest one, hoping now that the gateway was open, they could send more than one.

Soma watched with pity as this Dracula seemingly died. His body turned against him and began to erupt with hellfire which burned as he went down. Without realizing, Soma found his eyes locking with Dracula's.

"This will be your fate Soma Cruz."

"What the…" A voice had spoken, but only to him. Its words echoed in his mind. He stared at its sinking head. Fire sprouted from its large nostrils and its jaw was dropped, but it was seemingly resigned to screaming as it disappeared downwards.

"This will be your fate Soma Cruz," the voice spoke again.

"How is it that you speak in my mind?" he demanded.

"Have you not realized yet? Your powers? Your strength? They are mine!"

"Well you can have them back, right after I run my sword through your black heart!"

The voice's laugh began to ring in his head and Soma felt faint. His sword fell from his hands and he dropped to his knees.

"They will turn on you Soma, unless you strike them first."

"No, they wouldn't. I'm on their side, I'm a…good guy"

The voice's laugh now became incessant. "Good? There is no good in you Soma. It is a façade. Underneath the veneer of a young 'good' person lies the heart of a true devil. You just don't know it yet. Your fate will be mine, unless you strike them. Kill them!"

"No! They have no reason to kill me! I fight on their side."

"Yes, history always repeats. Foolishly you fight for the side of 'good,' never realizing that behind your back, they are plotting against you. They will take away everything that you hold dear."

"No, they won't. I'm one of them…I'm one of them…"

"Poor blind fool. You are not one of them, you are one of ME."

Soma could bear it no longer. He threw his hands up in a vain attempt to block the voice from reaching his mind. "No, that's impossible!"

"Our life is a cruel cycle. More than 500 hundred years I also fought for what I thought was good. My most precious was taken from me, wrongly. Now look, behind you, history repeats!"

"Dear God!"

Soma heard another's voice cry out in horror. Turning around as the voice instructed, he witnessed a sight he could scarcely believe. Eric stood in attack posture with his spear ready to be thrust into its target. However he seemed to have missed. Blood dripped from the pointed edge which had fully penetrated and gone through the victim's body. A pool of blood had already formed at Eric's feet. He was silent, his face expressing all his emotions.

"Mina!" Soma cried. He rushed towards Eric and ripped the spear from his hands. Gently he laid Mina onto the ground. Her normally pleasant face was now frozen in agonizing pain.

"It's not possible," Eric muttered. "She came from no where, I was already charging….I did not have time to stop…"

Eric's cry drew Cornell attention and he immediately abandoned his battle against a skull-headed Dracula. Running on all fours, he came to Eric's side. "What has happened?"

"Soma?" Mina's voice was weak. Soma held her cradled in his arms. The blood continued to stream onto his arms. The crimson blood created a bright contrast against his pale skin.

"Don't die Mina, please don't. I promised to get you out. I promised…"

"No Soma…you won't. "

"Don't say that. I'll make it right."

"Avenge me, Soma."

Soma paused. "What?"

"They fear your power. Kill them. Make them pay, Soma."

"Mina?" Soma could say no more. The grief was overwhelming, but now there was something else…madness…chaos. Nothing was as it should. He was confused and angry at the same time. He was losing his patience. Everything was spinning out of control and he could bear it no longer.

"Soma…it hurts!" Mina screamed before falling silent. Her gaze disappeared into the distance. Soma passed his fingers over her eyes, closing the lids.

"There is something wrong about her," Cornell suddenly said. "She does not smell right."

"My God, Cornell, I killed her," Eric continued before falling to his knees behind Soma.

Soma pulled the spear from Mina's body and shrouded her with his coat. The spear no longer shone as it was completely stained with her blood. He turned and faced Eric. With his bloodstained hand he grabbed Eric by the chin and lifted him off his feet while running the spear into his chest.

"Soma!" Cornell howled. Cornell watched as something in Soma's expression changed. Greif turned into anger, and anger into rage. His eyes suddenly glowed with a red aura which had become only too familiar to him. They were the eyes of a devil, the eyes of Dracula.

"You will all pay for her death. You will all die!"

"No Soma, stop. I too have felt the darkness that is tempting you. This is only the first step towards its path. You can still turn around!" Cornell's eyes returned to where Mina had lay. She was gone. No, the girl had risen and it was just as Cornell had suspected. The body of a teenage girl had been replaced with one of a fully adult woman. Her hair was long and the color of blood. She was completely nude covered only by Soma's coat which she wrapped around her. She grinned at Cornell while rocking her hips from side to side teasingly. Cornell recognized her as a creature of legend, a demon that invaded men's dream to make them nightmares. It was a Succubus.

"Turn around Soma. You will see that the darkness is all about deceit. Lies!"

"I see the truth man-wolf. I see it all. I see all your deaths!" Soma's voice became a roar.

Cornell meant to leap at Soma, to dig his claws into him but suddenly he could not feel anything below his neck. He became numb, unable to move. Then he noticed. The sword that Soma had dropped was in his hand again. How had he grabbed it so fast? Cornell suddenly found his head dropping. Before long he realized he was falling. As his chin began to touch his chest, he realized that he was bleeding. Then he saw the gaping hole which had ripped open his torso. Finally his head struck the ground.

"Ada…"

A smile crept onto Soma's face as he watched Cornell's body slump down. The blood of his former allies had been soaked into his skin, and he felt…powerful. Gripping his sword in hand he then outstretched his arms as if he had wings. His eyes latched themselves onto Grant who was soaring through the air on the back of one of Dracula's….one of _his_ other selves. He felt the wind pick up beneath his feet, for they ceased to be planted on the ground. Now he was flying upwards.

The giant-bat Dracula seemed to know what Soma wanted at that moment. The bat reversed its earlier course and turned towards Soma. The air was filled with its screech. As Grant rode on its back, he constantly dug his knife deeper and deeper into its back until it began to rain blood throughout the keep. Grant raised his arm, ready for another plunge. Suddenly he felt a chill. Grant was a strong man, not unaccustomed to feeling pain and seeing gritty sights, but he was unable to contain his horror as he turned his head. Soma was disappearing into the distance behind him, but he could clearly see him holding his severed arm. His eyes fell on the stump which was bleeding profusely. Grant's vision became blurred and he felt himself falling. He was no longer on the bat-Dracula's back. By the time his body fell and struck the ground, neck broken, he had already lost consciousness.

The gateway opened by the Malus-Dracula's defeat had shaken the foundations of the keep. The ground itself was being pulled into the vortex which had opened beneath. The many forms of Dracula began to struggle to maintain their presence as they felt themselves being drawn into the hole. To stave off the pulling force of the vortex, one of the incarnations reconstituted itself in the form of a monstrous statue. Massive in size, the statuesque Dracula kept the pulling force at bay all the while attacking the Belmonts. Blocks of the floor began to hover in the air, spinning as they were sucked in. Using the blocks as platforms, the Belmonts continued their fight.

Trevor sensed a woman's scream. It was Sypha's. Against his better instincts he turned away from battle to see. Instantly he saw what had horrified her. Across the chamber he could see their comrades lying dead. Grant! It seemed inconceivable to him, after all the dangers they had braved, to see him dead. Finally Trevor caught sight of Soma. The boy had turned. He had suspected him; he could sense the taint in his soul. Unless the boy faced the chaos raging within him, he would be turned to darkness. He had hoped that the battle against Dracula would be enough to keep him on the side of light. He was wrong. Tipped over the edge, he was now just another form, another incarnation of Dracula. Soma was now face to face with Sypha. He saw him raise his sword. Trevor wanted to look on. He wanted to leave this battle to be at her side, but he could not. He turned away. As he resumed barraging the statue-Dracula with his whip, he sensed a renewed vigor to his blows.

Moments passed. Trevor although focused on the battle at hand, waited for the sound of death throes. He hoped they would be Soma's but held little hope. Defeating Dracula required the power entrusted to the vampire killer whip. Even with the whip, the battle was a difficult one as evidenced by the presence of no less than three whips.

Neither Richter or Juste had realized yet what had happened to the others. They were far too focused on their task. They did just as Trevor had asked them. They were good warriors. He was proud to call them kinsmen…family. But now Trevor felt a twinge of guilt and of doubt. By not telling them what was happening behind them he was deceiving them. But should he tell them, then their front will become divided and fall. Finally the realization dawned on Trevor that his biggest error was not warning them.

"Be on guard my friends, we now have enemies behind!" he yelled. However his warning was too late.

"Juste!" he heard Richter cry out.

Trevor saw the blade pierce through Juste. The young boy's face, for boy was what Trevor saw him as, was frozen in astonishment. His own blood splattered across his pale features. The whip fell from his hand.

Richter quickly switched the focus of his assault. His whip struck Soma across the face causing him to retreat backwards. But Soma was equally fast in his counter-strike. Regaining his composure, the youthful vampire called into being orbs made of dark matter. The orbs crackled with energy as they were launched towards Richter and Trevor. The pair jumped onto a moving platform barely missing them.

The keep was falling to pieces when the laugh of all of Dracula's different forms reverberated around what was left of its walls. A brilliant light, like a bolt of lightening, sparked from the statue-Dracula's hands and struck the platform that Trevor and Richter were desperately holding onto. The bolt broke the platform in half sending Trevor tumbling to a small patch of ground that was still fixed. Richter's half remained in the air and began to spin closer and closer to the statue-Dracula.

Raising himself to the top of the platform, Richter eyed the statue's rock-like features. Its head did not move, its eyes were frozen in an empty gaze. Nevertheless, he knew that it was looking at him.

"Come monster, let us end this!" Richter screamed as he launched into an uppercut while flaying his whip towards the colossal statue.

The statue's lifeless eyes glowed crimson signaling its response to the Belmont's battle cry. Once more a volley of bolts rang outwards, this time going through their target. As Trevor recovered from his fall, he managed to see the shower of blood emanating from Richter's chest.

The Dracula's laughter had become so incessant, that Trevor had blocked it from his mind altogether. His senses became deaf and numb all at once. He turned away from the sight of Richter's falling corpse. Surrounding him were the bodies of Grant, Cornell, Eric, and…

"Sypha…." His voice was like a whisper.

Their bodies had been dumped together as if to be burned in a pyre. Sypha's was on top. Trevor reached for her still body and cradled it in his arms. With a free hand he pulled off her hood and allowed her long blonde hair to fall loose. A smile crept across his face as he passed his gloved fingers through her hair.

"What could have been…" again he whispered.

"Mourning?" a voice called out.

Trevor leaned and kissed Sypha's icy forehead. He then laid her on the ground, draping his coat over her. Before he turned, he knew who faced him. The remaining forms of Dracula had all resumed their humanoid shapes. Tall, dark, and draped in long black capes, they all looked the same. For Trevor, only one stood out from the group. He unfurled his whip allowing the tip to crash loudly onto the ground.

"Soma."

"The era of Belmont's saving the day is at an end, Trevor. Your wretched clan dies at last. Any final words before I feast on your blood?"

Trevor remained silent; his eyes still locked on Sypha's shrouded body.

"What? No speeches? No proud declarations about how your clan will hunt the night!?"

At this Trevor looked up and locked eyes with Soma. His smile faded and was replaced by one of controlled rage. Teeth clenched, Trevor spoke.

"Rot in hell."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"It is over," Saint Germain said simply.

Whether it was cowardice or common sense, he could not tell why he did not help in the battle. He merely observed from afar. He watched them all die. When he returned to the others, he said nothing. "What has happened?" they asked him. "We must wait," was his the only reply he could muster. But wait for what? To be found and killed? For age to take them all and slowly die, one by one? He could not bear to tell them the truth. They were mostly children.

"They're dead, aren't they?" a soft voice spoke to Saint Germain from behind. He turned and found the young girl, Carrie, standing behind him.

"You can tell us. Lydie and Annette have already sensed it."

Saint Germain was amazed. The young girl was no more than 12 years old and yet she spoke with an authority which made even him feel intimidated. He became nevertheless intrigued.

"Why must you know? Would it make any difference? Say they were all dead, would it change your course of action?"

"No, it would not."

Saint Germain nodded. "Then you have your answer." Without another word he removed his hat and dropped to the floor and seated himself. He pondered on the fate of the world. He had always imagined that if the world ended, it would happen so much faster. Perhaps he should use what time he had left to take a cup of coffee in that café in Paris? Perhaps he should offer to take these children home? They could spend what little time they had with a loved one. But then again, most of them had no where to go. Annette's love lay dead in the next chamber. Henry and Carrie were orphans. Lydie's friend was also fallen. No, there was no point. Saint Germain's head dropped.

"What are all of you doing here?"

Saint Germain looked up. Carrie had returned to the group. They too looked around. Scanning their immediate surrounding, he saw nothing. Not even an apparition. Nothing until…"There!" he exclaimed. His finger pointed towards a spot just a few steps away. Like a candle light, something was slowly flickering into being. When the silhouette finally came into focus, Saint Germain had to restrain himself from falling to his knees.

The man was tall in stature, just like the others. His garments were a mixture of armor plates, chain mail, and leather. A long sword was sheathed at his side. His hair was slightly more than shoulder length. Its true color was obscured by dirt, grime, and a substance which he had apparently been wholly submerged in. In his right hand he held what was unmistakably the vampire killer whip.

"I am Simon Belmont. Who are you?"

Saint Germain managed to smile once more. Succinctly he managed to sum up the situation and the events that had transpired. Simon listened silently, seemingly not disturbed that his entire clan had been wiped out. The news of the others certain demise provoked tears from some of the women. They chastised him for not telling them and opting to sit quietly in a corner. It was only at that moment that Simon spoke up to silence them.

"Why is it that when I searched the castle for…everyone, I did not see you?"

Simon did not answer. Instead he pulled a rusted vase that hung from his belt and tossed it to Saint Germain. Saint Germain inspected it, but his puzzled face gave away that he still did not understand.

"It housed an elixir that makes the drinker both invincible and partially invisible, for a time. I used it all up arriving here."

"Pity. This could have been our upper hand against Dracula."

Simon smiled and shook his head. "No. Our upper hand as you call it, is something else."

"What?"

With a gesture, he silenced Saint Germain. "They can hear us, every word. These walls are their ears. Every set of candles, are their eyes." Simon motioned for everyone in the chapel to gather around him. "What I am about to ask of you, will be difficult."

"We're not afraid of battle," Carrie injected.

"I know you are not. I can see the fire that burns in all your eyes. That is why I must ask you…remain here. I do not need any of you."

"You can't defeat them all on your own!" Annette cried.

"And I cannot defeat them with you," Simon retorted. "If I am to stand any chance, I must go alone."

The argument raged for some time, but eventually they all realized that there was no use arguing with the Belmont. He was their only chance at escaping, at setting things right. If he wanted to go alone, it was his choice. It didn't matter that it appeared to be suicide to them all, including to Saint Germain. He walked up to Simon as he was hunched over a small box. He glimpsed a small knife which Simon used to cut his wrist and pour blood droplets into the box. He thought he heard him murmur something, but he could not understand.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Simon did not look up. He closed the small box and hung it onto his belt. "Yes. But staying here goes for you too Saint Germain."

"You need me to get you there," Saint Germain called, but Simon disregarded him and walked towards a nearby archway. Finally he looked over his shoulder, a smile across his face, "I know the way." The darkness beyond the archway enveloped him and he was gone.

"You too?"

Saint Germain glanced and found Henry standing beside him. He nodded.

"He seems very sure of himself."

Saint Germain nodded once again. "Yes, he was. But you know, I always wanted to meet him."

"Why?"

"Because if not for him, I might not be here."

Henry looked at him puzzled.

"You see lad, the story begins with him. His was the first story to be set down. After Simon Belmont chronicled his adventure, he set down those that came before him. Then, each succeeding Belmont set down their own adventures. That is how I know. That is why I am here. He was the beginning. Heaven help him, or this will be the end."

Simon Belmont emerged from the darkness and ascended the steps leading to the keep swiftly. As he crossed the long hall, he observed the crucified corpses but did not allow their ghastly sight to affect him. He had one sole purpose from which he could not waver.

The castle keep was still filled with rubble, but there had been one prominent change. The throne, which had previously been over the area that had been sucked into the vortex, was now repositioned on the fringe overlooking it. Beside the throne's arm rest was a pedestal over which a glowing object hovered. A thin hand extended and petted the object as if it were a pet.

"I was over-zealous in my proclamation that your clan was dead. I had no idea that there was one missing. I know of course about Julius, but he is trapped and therefore does not count. You however…"

Dracula arose from his throne. Even from a distance, Simon could tell that he towered over him twice over. His appearance was different from what he expected. Although clearly still in his primary humanoid form, he was greater in size and more demonic in his appearance. His skin was black and scaled, horns which twisted and curved protruded from either side of his head, and his hands were more like claws. Though his arms were slender, his build was great and betrayed the power hidden within. As he cast his eyes upon Simon, he smiled. His gaping mouth revealed a glowing red which radiated in tune with his wide eyes. His cape was black and seemed to extend from the skin of his shoulders. Underneath Simon could not tell if he wore armor, or merely and extension of his scaled skin.

"Tell me Simon, what you think of my…form?"

"Monstrous…like always."

"Pity. I rather like it. It is an amalgamation of all my incarnations. Pity you can not do the same. It might make this moment…more enjoyable."

"If it is a challenge you seek, I am more than willing to oblige."

"Challenge? Ha!" Dracula scoffed. "Your clan's propensity for vanity has never ceased to amaze me. Generation after generation of you grow to be deluded that you are holy warriors. You are nothing. You are a line of master-less warriors engaging in a perpetual battle of revenge for something never of you even remember."

"We know why we fight. We know of the promise."

"A promise made hundreds of years ago!" he hissed through his extended fangs.

"And it will be kept so long as one of us still breaths!"

Dracula's hand reached for Simon. "Then breathe no more!" A ball of fire whisked to life within his palm before launching forwards towards him. Behind the first fire ball came three others. Simon leapt up and over them catching only a slight singe on the sole of his boot as the last one passed. By the time he landed, Dracula was no longer where he had stood before. A flash of light had enveloped him and he appeared elsewhere…right behind him. Orbs of crackling dark matter formed behind him and were lunged forward. Simon ran away and towards the throne, all the while he dodged the orbs as they passed.

Just a few steps away from the throne, Simon caught sight of the object hovering beside the throne. It was an hourglass. But inside the hourglass was the object that Saint Germain has described to him, the broken chronometer. It was within his reach, it could all be over…Suddenly Dracula materialized nearly on top of him. Simon rolled to one side to avoid colliding with him. He seemed ready to unleash another barrage of flames but Simon quickly leapt to his feet and launched himself into the air. With handle firmly in his grip, he swung his weapon. The whip's Morningstar tip collided with Dracula's face. He growled in pain as the blades point carved a gash from ear to ear. Blood dripped down Dracula's forehead.

"First blood…I grant you that." His skeletal hand then reached wrapped itself around Simon's throat. "But you are deluded Belmont." Dracula roared as he then thrust Simon face down into the ground. Simon felt his nose crack, he inhaled his own blood and coughed. Dracula lifted him and threw across the keep. Simon went limp as he soared. He almost went entirely through one of the keep remaining windows except that Dracula appeared just in time to catch him. Shards of glass cut into Simon's upper torso through the gaps in his armor.

"Bleed Belmont! I want your blood to stain the walls of my keep for an eternity!"

Simon still clung to his whip and raised it, but Dracula slapped his arm down and it fell.

"I see it in your eyes! You still do not realize. You face my combined might culled from all time! You cannot hope to achieve anything more but scratch my surface. Admit defeat Simon. You're going to die here, alone. A slow death for my amusement! Show me your hopelessness. Show me your loss, your complete and utter defeat! Let me see it in your eyes. I want to see it carved onto your soul!"

Simon coughed and the blood streamed down his neck. "Belmont's die, but we are never defeated." His hand went to his belt, he released the latch that held onto the small box, and he allowed it to drop. It barely made a sound as it hit the floor. The top simply popped open from the fall. Dracula stared at the box.

"What trickery…"

A brilliant ball of light shot out of the box and left a stream of golden dust in its wake. The ball of light flew straight for the crucifixes and hovered above them.

"I walked for many long hours, perhaps days, through this maze of a castle. Before I reached Saint Germain's group I met with an old acquaintance of yours. A devil forgemaster. For the right price he was willing to part with one of his innocent devils."

"What!"

"The fairy is small, defenseless, and completely without offensive power…but this one…her healing powers are magic…" Simon began to laugh even as Dracula threw him to the ground.

Dracula teleported himself closer to the fairy, but he could not capture it. She moved at incredible speeds while Dracula threw his arms about madly trying to grasp her. As she dodged his grip, dust from her tail sprinkled onto the corpses which lay about the keep. Soon the corpses began to radiate with the same gold aura that the fairy did. After a few moments, they began to move. Muscle and skin were re-grown almost instantly. Each one broke away from their bonds or rose from their resting place. All of them reached for their whips.

"No! It's not possible!"

The crowd of warriors formed a line spanning the width of the keep. All their eyes were on Dracula. Trevor was the only one to speak up.

"Belmonts! Slay!" Trevor cried as they charged forth towards Dracula. In unison they struck him. The scale of his skin began to crack revealing a layer of glowing red skin underneath. The whips were incessant in their attack. Dracula howled in pain.

Clutching tattered curtains lining the wall of the keep, Simon managed to pull himself up onto his feet. With a limp, he strode towards the throne and the glowing object, still hovering beside it. His hand clamped around the object and then there was flash. He felt a hand take the object from him. When the flash receded, he saw that he was back in the chapel. Saint Germain stood before him, beaming with glee.

"Wonderful, incredible. I cannot believe you did it. That was truly marvelous. It was…"

Simon raised a hand, "enough. Can you set things right?"

Saint Germain returned to his reserved tone. "Of course," he said simply and began to tinker with the device as if it were a toy. "Just as soon as I repair the damage, I can track the exact moment and dimension of the disturbance. Once I know that, I can drop in, briefly, and prevent the damage from happening. Then viola!" he cried triumphantly.

"Then what?"

"Then my dear Simon, none of this ever happened. You all live out your lives as originally intended."

Simon leaned himself against a nearby wall and breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

"You won't remember any of this. Any of them."

"Pity. I wish there was more time, to exchange words." Simon fell silent. He glanced at the device which Saint Germain held. "What is to stop this from happening again?"

"Nothing. It may have happened before. It may be happening again somewhere else. Time is a complicated thing."

"So it is," Simon nodded concededly."

Saint Germain extended his hand. "Good bye, Simon Belmont. It was an honor."

Simon shook his hand, and once again was blinded by a brilliant flash.


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue

He thought that he heard the clock tower ring, but the bell faded like a distant dream. His head ached for a moment, he was dizzy, and he felt faint. But then it was all gone. It happened for just a moment. He looked up from his cup which he had placed on the table and observed that his guest sat across from him once more. Had he moved? He thought so.

"Well, that was thrilling," Saint Germain said in an exhausted tone.

"I'm glad you think so," the gentlemen said.

Saint Germain looked at the man, puzzled. Then he laughed. "Oh my friend, I'm so sorry. My mind wandered to another matter. One that was no less thrilling or fascinating than yours. I was just now pondering on recent events. The timeline seems somewhat bulky. I was thinking that perhaps I could streamline it. It might make things smoother, more reasonable."

The gentlemen nodded absent mindedly and took another sip of tea. "Yes, of course. Now what were you going to say about my matter?"

Saint Germain smiled. He remained silent, pensive for several moments; finally he stood up from the table. "I think that you should honor the memories of those fallen. Honor their stories by spreading them. The world may not believe you, because the world may not be ready. But…at least you will have done your part."

"I think you're right. I had decided as much. I just wanted someone to hear me, and not say that I was insane."

"Have no fear. Write your book," Saint Germain spoke reassuringly as he reached for his hat which he had left on the table. He dropped it onto his head and gave the gentlemen one last reassuring smile.

"Good day, Mr. Stoker."

FIN

Happy 20th Castlevania!

Author Notes:

On the lateness…

First of all, my most sincere apologies for the wait in between chapters. I normally do not like to publish stories until they are complete. However given that this was a last minute thing, and I thought it would only be appropriate to publish an anniversary story the actual year of the anniversary, I could not wait. So at least the first half was published in 2006. For this second half, I hope that those you who have read it thought that it was worth the wait. After the initial chapters were completed, things became complicated as they always do, and I had very little time to write. I don't think this is my best stuff, but I think it's a fun romp with which to celebrate 20 years of great Castlevania. And just on a personal Castlevania note, my first game in the series was Castlevania II: Simon's Quest.

On the story…

Anyone familiar with the British programme, Doctor Who, will instantly recognize where the idea for this story came from (The Five Doctors, thank you Terrance Dicks!). The absence of certain characters from this celebratory tale is entirely intentional but not in any way a reflection of my personal preference of one character over another.

Characters from Circle of the Moon and Lament of Innocence do not make appearances in the story due to the fact that COTM takes place in Carmilla's castle, not Dracula's. Also, it has not yet been explained if Walter Bernhard's castle is the same creature of chaos that Dracula uses as his lair. Plot-wise, the requirement for characters to appear in this story is that they need to have been within the castle walls. Henry appears by virtue of the fact that his father's villa was within the castle's walls. Hector from Curse of Darkness does not appear simply because he is part of Saint Germain's past. So while Hector could conceivably have joined the fray, it would not be prudent for Saint Germain to interfere with his own timeline. You will also note that I'm purposefully vague throughout as to who and how many Belmont's are crucified. It's entirely possible that Leon could have been among them as well as the recent addition to the Belmont family, Jonathan. My apologies if your favorite character was not in this anniversary story…but hey, there is always next time!


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